To Thee Good God I Every Blessing Owe


To thee, good God, I ev’ry blessing owe;
O hear me now; thy wonted mercy shew:
Beneath the shelter of thy wings I’ll rest,
Till all these dreadful ills are overpast.
Thee I’ll invoke, thy gracious aid implore,
For ne’er was yet with-held thy saving pow’r.
From heav’n shalt thou thy kind assistance send;
Me shall thy mercy and thy truth defend;
Fruitless, my foes their impious slanders dart;
Fruitless they aim their mischiefs at my heart:
E’en tho’ ‘mong savage lions, fierce and fell,
‘Mongst rav’nous beasts, that vomit fire, I dwell,
Whose tongues than keenest swords more fatal are,
Whose teeth wound deeper than the pointed spear,
Do thou, O God, exalt thy glory high;
Shew to th’ astonifh’d earth thy majesty.
For me their villain-toils they now prepare,
My poor afflicted soul they seek t’ ensnare;
For me they’ve made a pit–in vain they’ve made;
To the same pit they are themselves betray’d.
Fix’d is my heart; my heart’s resolv’d, O God,
To spread thy praises and thy name abroad;
Awake, my lyre–my psaltery—-my voice
At early, dawn I’ll in my God rejoice;
My song of thee the nations round shall hear;
Struck with the theme, thy pow’r shall they revere;
For to yon trackless clouds, yon heav’ns above,
Extend thy truth, thy clemency, thy love.
Do thou, O God, exalt thy glory high;
Beam on the wond’ring world thy majesty.