1 I'll celebrate thy Praises, Lord,
who didst thy Pow'r employ
To raise my drooping Head, and check
my Foes insulting Joy.
2,3 In my Distress I cry'd to Thee,
who kindly dist relieve,
And from the Grave's expecting Jaws
my hopeless Life retrieve.
4 Thus to his Courts, ye Saints of His,
with Songs of Praise repair;
With me commemorate his Truth,
and providential Care.
5 His Wrath has but a Moment's Reign;
His Favour no Decay:
Your Night of Grief is recompens'd
with Joy's returning Day.
6 But I, in prosp'rous Days, presum'd;
no suddent Change I fear'd:
Whilst in my sun-shine of Success
no low'ring Cloud appeard.
7 But soon I found thy Favour, Lord,
my Empire's only Trust;
For when thou hidd'st thy Face, I saw
my Honour laid in Dust.
8 Then, as I vainly had presum'd,
my Error I confess'd;
And thus with supplicating Voice,
thy Mercy's Throne address'd:
9 "What Profit is there in my blood,
"congeal'd by Death's cold Night?
"Can silent Ashes speak thy praise,
"thy wond'rous Truth recite?
10 "Hear me, O Lord; in mercy hear;
"thy wonted Aid extend:
"Do Thou send Help, on whom alone
"I can for Help depend."
11 'Tis done! Thou hast my mournful Scene
to Songs and Dances turn'd;
Invested me in Robes of State,
who late in Sack-cloth mourn'd.
12 Exalted thus, I'll gladly sing
thy Praise in grateful Verse;
And, as thy Favours endless are,
thy endless Praise rehearse.