1027
8s.
Thou wilt make all his bed in his sickness.
Psalm 41:3.
609 How vast is the tribute I owe, Of gratitude, homage and praise, To the giver of all I possess, The life and the length of my days! | 2 When the sorrows I boded were come, I poured out my sighs and my tears; And to him, who alone can relieve, My soul breathed her vows and her prayers. | 3 When my heart throbbed with pain and alarm, When paleness my cheek overspread, When sickness pervaded my frame— Then my soul on my Maker was stayed. | 4 When death’s awful image was nigh, And no mortal was able to save, Thou didst brighten the valley of death, And illumine the gloom of the grave. | 5 In mercy thy presence dispels The shades of adversity’s night, And turns the sad scene of despair To a morning of joy and delight. | 6 Great source of my comforts restored, Thou healer and balm of my woes! Thou hope and desire of my soul! On thy mercy I’ll ever repose. | 7 How boundless the gratitude due To thee, O thou God of my praise! The fountain of all I possess, The life and the light of my days! | |