The Choir and The Oratory or Praise and Prayer. By Josiah Conder |
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“I WILL EXTOL THEE, O LORD, FOR THOU HAST
LIFTED ME UP.”
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 | The Choir and The Oratory |  |
164
“I WILL EXTOL THEE, O LORD, FOR THOU HAST LIFTED ME UP.”
Psalm xxx.
Raised from the dust, I bless my Saviour's name.
Thou, Lord, didst interpose
To disappoint my foes!
On Thee I call'd, and Thou hast healed my frame.
Yes, 'twas Thy power revived my failing breath;
Thy voice recalled me fom the gate of death.
Thou, Lord, didst interpose
To disappoint my foes!
On Thee I call'd, and Thou hast healed my frame.
Yes, 'twas Thy power revived my failing breath;
Thy voice recalled me fom the gate of death.
Oh, sing unto the Lord, ye saints of His:
In notes of triumph bless
His truth, His holiness.
Brief is His anger, and His smile is bliss.
Sorrow may be the inmate of the night,
But Joy returneth with the morrow's light.
In notes of triumph bless
His truth, His holiness.
Brief is His anger, and His smile is bliss.
Sorrow may be the inmate of the night,
But Joy returneth with the morrow's light.
165
I thought, in my prosperity secure,
Nothing my peace could shake.
Thy favour, Lord! did make
My seeming strength, which promised to endure,
Firm as a mountain-fort. Thou didst but hide
Thy face, and all my hope and spirit died.
Nothing my peace could shake.
Thy favour, Lord! did make
My seeming strength, which promised to endure,
Firm as a mountain-fort. Thou didst but hide
Thy face, and all my hope and spirit died.
Then called I on the Lord: What benefit
Can from my blood accrue?
O God, should death ensue,
Could my dust praise Thee from the noisome pit?
Oh, can the grave Thy faithfulness record?
Have mercy on me, be my helper, Lord!
Can from my blood accrue?
O God, should death ensue,
Could my dust praise Thee from the noisome pit?
Oh, can the grave Thy faithfulness record?
Have mercy on me, be my helper, Lord!
Lo! Thou hast turned my mourning into joy;
Exchanged my garb of sadness
For the girt robes of gladness,
That so Thy praise might every power employ.
O Lord my God, be it my life's endeavour,
To give Thee thanks, and praise Thy name for ever.
Exchanged my garb of sadness
For the girt robes of gladness,
That so Thy praise might every power employ.
O Lord my God, be it my life's endeavour,
To give Thee thanks, and praise Thy name for ever.
| The Choir and The Oratory | |