Thanksgiving for Deliverance from Trouble.--Ps. xxx

Yea, I will extol Thee
Lord of life and light,
For Thine arm upheld me,
Turn'd my foes to flight;
I implored Thy succour,
Thou wert swift to save,
Heal my wounded spirit,
Bring me from the grave.

Sing, ye saints, sing praises!
Call His love to mind,
For a moment angry,
But for ever kind;
Grief may, like a stranger,
Through the night sojourn,
Yet shall joy, to-morrow,
With the sun return.

In my wealth I vaunted,
"Nought shall move me hence;
Thou hast made my mountain,
Strong in Thy defence:"--
Then Thy face was hidden,
Trouble laid me low,
"Lord," I cried right humbly,
"Why forsake me so?"

"Would my blood appease Thee,
In atonement shed?
Can the dust give glory?--
Praise employ the dead?
Hear me, Lord, in mercy,
God my Helper, hear."
--Long Thou didst not tarry,
Help and health were near.

Thou hast turn'd my mourning
Into minstrelsy,
Girded me with gladness,
Set from thraldom free:
Thee my ransom'd powers
Henceforth shall adore,
Thee, my great Deliverer,
Laud for evermore.