1 Lord, I will thee extol on high,
For thou hast made me rise;
And joyful hast not made to be
O'er me mine enemies.
2 I Lord my God to thee cry'd have,
And thou hast made me whole,
3 Jehovah thou out of the grave
Hast raised up my soul.
From pit's descent thou quicknedst me,
4 O sing unto the Lord,
And ye his saints give thanks when ye
His holiness record.
5 For's wrath doth but a while abide,
Life in his love doth stay:
If weeping lodge at ev'ning tide,
Yet joy at break of day.
6 For in my prosp'rous state I said,
Now shall I never slide,
7 Lord, by thy favour thou hast made
My mountain fast abide
8 Thou hid'st thy face, I troubled was,
Lord I to thee did cry;
Also my humble suit for grace
Unto the Lord made I.
9 What profit in my blood can be,
When I to pit go down?
Shall dust give glory unto thee?
Shall it thy truth make known?
10 Do thou me, O Jehovah, hear,
And on me mercy have:
To me, Jehovah, be thou near,
And helper me to save.
11 My mourning then a dance into
For me thou turned hast:
With joy thou didst me gird also,
And off my sackcloth cast.
12 So shall my glory sing thy praise,
And never silent be;
Jehovah, O my God always
I will give thanks to thee.