Psalm 77

To God I cri'd; He heard my cries:
Againe, when plung'd in miseries,
Renew'd with raised hands and eyes.

My festred wounds ran all the Night;
No comfort could my Soule invite
To relish long out-worn delight.

I call'd upon the Ever-blest:
And yet my troubles still increast;
Almost to Death by sorrow prest.

Thou keep'st my galled eyes awake:
Words faile my griefe; sighs onely spake,
Which from my panting bosome brake.

Then did my Memory unfold
The wonders, which thou wrought'st of old,
By our admiring Fathers told.

The Songs, which in the Night I sung;
When deeply by affliction stung:
These thoughts thus mov'd my desperate tongue;

Wilt thou for ever, Lord, forsake!
Nor pity on th' afflicted take!
O shall thy mercy never wake!

Wilt thou thy promise falsifie!
Must I in thy displeasure die!
Shall Grace before thy Fury flie!

This said; I thus my Passions checkt:
His changes on their ends reflect,
To punish and restore th'Elect.

His great Deliverance shall dwell
In my Remembrance; I will tell
What in our Fathers daies befell.

His counsels from our reach are set;
Hid in his sacred Cabinet.
What God like ours! so Good! so Great!

Who wonders can effect alone;
His Peoples great Redemption;
To Jacobs Seed, and Josephs knowne.

The yielding Floods confesse thy Might;
The Deeps were troubled at thy Sight;
And Seas recoil'd in their affright.

The Clouds in storms of raine descend;
The Aire thy hideous Fragors rend;
Thy arrowes dreadfull flames extend.

Thy Thunders rorings rake the Skies;
Thy fatall Lightning swiftly flies;
Earth trembles in her agonies.

Thy Wayes even through the Billowes lie:
The Flouds then left their Chanels dry;
No Mortall can thy steps descry.

Like Flocks through Wildernesse of Sand,
Thou led'st us to this pleasant Land;
By Moses and by Aarons hand.