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.