Thanksgiving After Recovery from the Small-Pox

Peace, panting soul, the storm is o'er,
My mortal foe appears no more,
As brandishing his dart:
But lo, the Prince of Life is nigh,
To chase my terrors with His eye,
And still my fluttering heart.

The awful doubt is solved at last,
The bitterness of death is past,
And bless'd with a reprieve
My panting soul may now respire;
My body, too, hath pass'd the fire,
And doubly saved I live.

Twas prayer alone that turn'd the scale,
(The prayer which doth with God prevail,)
And brought Him from the sky j
The Friend of Lazarus was here,
And dropp'd again the pitying tear,
And would not let me die.

God of my life and health restored,
I own Thee for my God and Lord,
Thy power and goodness see;
Accept the token from above,
The pledge of Thy forgiving love,
The life of heaven in Thee.

Thy arm omnipotent to save
Hath kindly snatch'd me from the grave,
And made my body whole:
O for Thy own compassion sake,
Cast all my sins behind Thy back,
And now restore my soul.

The confidence Divine impart,
The witness breathe into my heart,
And seal my sins forgiven;
Allow me then my last desire,
And send with death the car of fire
That wraps my soul to heaven.