C. M.

A song of deliverance from great distress.

I waited patient for the Lord,

He bowed to hear my cry;

He saw me resting on his word,

And brought salvation nigh.

He raised me from a horrid pit,

Where mourning long I lay,

And from my bonds released my feet,

Deep bonds of miry clay.

Firm on a rock he made me stand,

And taught my cheerful tongue

To praise the wonders of his hand,

In a new thankful song.

I'll spread his works of grace abroad;

The saints with joy shall hear,

And sinners learn to make my God

Their only hope and fear.

How many are thy thoughts of love!

Thy mercies, Lord, how great!

We have not words nor hours enough,

Their numbers to repeat.

When I 'm afflicted, poor, and low,

And light and peace depart,

My God beholds my heavy woe,

And bears me on his heart.