A Song of Praise for the Gospel

BLest be my God that I was Born,
To hear the Joyful Sound;
That I was born to be Baptiz'd,
And Bred on Holy Ground:
That I was Bred where God appears,
In Tokens of his Grace;
The Lines are Fallen unto me,
In a most pleasant place.

I might have been a Pagan Bred,
Or else a Veiled Jew,
Or Cheated with an Alcoran
Among the Turkish Crew.
Dumb Pictures might have been my Books,
Dark Language my Devotion;
And so I might with blinded Eyes,
Have drunk a deadly Potion.

So in a Dungeon dark as Night,
I might have Spent my days;
But thou hast sent me Gospel-Light,
To thine Eternal praise.
The Sun which rose up in the East,
And drove their Shades away;
His Healing Wings have reach'd the West,
And turn'd our Night to Day.

England at first an Egypt was,
Since that proud Babels Slave;
At last a Canaan it became,
And then my Birth it gave.
Blest be my God that I have slept
The dismal Night away;
Being kept in Providence's Womb,
To England's brightest Day.

Blest be my God for what I see,
My God for what I hear;
I hear such blessed News from Heaven,
Nor Earth nor Hell I fear.
I hear my Lord for me was born,
My Lord for Me did dye;
My Lord for Me did Rise again,
And did ascend on High.

On High he stands to plead my Cause,
And will return again;
And set Me on a Glorious Throne,
That I with Him may Reign.
Glory to God the Father be,
Glory to God the Son;
Glory to God the Holy Ghost;
Glory to God Alone.