Psalm 107

Extoll, and our good God adore,
Whose Sea of Mercy hath no Shore.
O you by Tyrants late opprest,
Now from your servile Yokes releast;
Praise him, who your Redemption wrought,
And home from barbarous Nations brought.
From where the Morn her Wings displaies;
From where the Evening crowns the Daies;
Beneath the burning Zone, and neare
The Influence of the freezing Beare.
They in unpeopled Deserts straid;
The Heavens their Roofe, the Clouds their shade:
Their Soules with thirst and hunger faint;
None by, to pity their Complaint:
When to the Lord their God they cry'd,
His Mercy their extreams supply'd.
He led them through the Wildernesse,
And gave them Cities to possesse.
O you, his Goodnesse celebrate!
His Acts to all the World relate!
For he in foodlesse Deserts fed
The Hungry with coelestiall Bread.
From wondring Rocks new Currents roule,
To satisfie the thirsty Soule.
Those Rebels, who his Counsell slight,
Imprison'd in the shades of Night;
Horrors of Guilt their Souls surprise:
When humbled with their miseries,
They to the Lord addrest their Praiers;
His Mercy comforts their Despaires,
From Darknesse drawes, dissolves their Gieves;
And from Deaths Jawes preserves their lives.
O you his Goodnesse celebrate!
His Acts to all the World relate?
He breaks Steel-barres, and Gates of Brasse,
To force a way for His to passe.
Those Fools, whom pleasing Sins intice,
Are punisht by their darling Vice.
Their Souls all sorts of Food distaste:
Whom Troops of pale Disease waste.
When they to God direct their Praiers,
His Mercy comforts their Despaires.
His Word restores them from their Graves,
And from a dreadfull Ruine saves.
O you his Goodnesse celebrate!
His Acts to all the World relate!
Due Praises to his Altar bring,
And of your great Redemption sing.
Who saile upon the toiling Maine,
And traffick in pursuit of Gaine,
To such his Power is not unknowne,
Nor wonders in the Ocean showne.
At his Command black Tempests rise;
Then mount they to the troubled Skies,
Thence sinking to the Depths below.
The Ship Hulls as the Billowes flow;
And all Aboord at every seele,
Like Drunkards, on the Hatches reele.
When they to God direct their Prayers,
His Mercy comforts their Despaires.
Forthwith the bitter Storms asswage,
And foming Seas suppresse their Rage:
Then, singing, with a prosperous gale
To their desired Harbour saile.
O you his Goodnesse celebrate!
His Acts to all the World relate!
His Fame in your Assemblies raise,
And in the sacred Senate praise.
He Rivers turnes t' a Wildernesse;
Springs dry'd up by the Suns accesse.
To scourge their Sins, he makes the Soile
Vngratefull to the Owners toile:
Turnes sandy Deserts into Pooles,
And parched Earth with Fountains cooles:
There plants his hungry Colonies,
Where strongly-fenced Cities rise:
The Fields their yellow Mantles weare,
And spreading Vines full clusters beare.
They infinitely multiply:
Their Heards of no diseases die.
But when their Sins his Wrath incense,
Then Famine, Warre, and Pestilence,
Their miserable Lives devoure:
Their Princes he deprives of Power,
Who in the Path-lesse Wildernesse
Conceal'd themselves from Mans accesse.
The Poore he raiseth from the ground;
Their Families like flocks abound.
The Just shall this with joy behold;
Th'Unjust with feare and shame controll'd.
The Wise these Changes will record,
That they may know and serve the Lord.