1027
8s.
Thou wilt make all his bed in his sickness.
Psalm 41:3.
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!