PSALM CXVI.

George Burgess

Therefore, through all my days,
My voice shall mount on high,
For mercies past shall pour its praise,
For future mercies cry.

The snares of death were round,
The terrors of the grave;
The anguish of strong fear I found,
And none was there to save.

Then to the Lord arose
My voice of trusting pray'r:
\"Lord, from the midst of thronging woes
My rescued spirit bear.\"

Kind is the Lord, and just;
The Lord our God is good:
My sorrow bow'd me to the dust,
But near my Saviour stood.

Return, then, O my soul,
To thy delightful rest;
For well the Lord's most kind control
Has all thy progress bless'd.

For thou, O God, hast kept
My spirit from the dead:
No bitter tear mine eye has wept,
Nor miss'd my foot its tread.

So, in the living's land
I walk before the Lord,
And as I trusted in his hand,
I tell that trust's reward.

For when, in flight and pain,
Exclaim'd my heart dismay'd,
\"All mortal men are false and vain,\"
Then dawn'd immortal aid.

What off'ring shall I bring,
What grateful tribute raise,
To tell the goodness of my King,
That guided all my ways?

I take the chalice deep,
And call my Saviour's name;
My vows amidst his people keep,
And all his love proclaim.

Oh, precious in his eye
His saints' expiring breath:
And dear, too dear for earth to buy,
The purchase of their death.

Lord, from bondage freed,
Thy servant, low I bow;
Thy servant, and thy handmaid's seed,
And thine by ransom now.

I bring my thankful lay,
And call my Saviour's name,
My vows amidst his people pay,
And all his love proclaim;

Within the gates that gem
His temple's holy place;
Within thy midst, Jerusalem!
Praise ye the Lord of grace!