O

Oh, what a lantern, what a lamp of light

       Is thy pure word to me

To clear my paths and guide my goings right!

                 I swore and swear again,

       I of the statues will observer be,

                 Thou justly dost ordain.

 

The heavy weights of grief oppress me sore:

       Lord, raise me by the word,

As thou to me didst promise heretofore.

                 And this unforced praise

       I for an off’ring bring, accept, O Lord,

                 And show to me thy ways.

 

What if my life lie naked in my hand,

       To every chance exposed!

Should I forget what thou dost me command?

                 No, no, I will not stray

       From thy edicts though round about enclosed

                 With snares the wicked lay.

 

Thy testimonies as mine heritage,

       I have retained still:

And unto them my heart’s delight engage,

                 My heart which still doth bend,

       And only bend to do what thou dost will,

                 And do it to the end.