Psalm LXXVII. Common Metre. Comfort derived from ancient Providences

When overwhelm'd with pain and grief, Beneath thy chastening rod; Depriv'd of comfort and relief, We look to thee, our God.

Wilt thou forever cast us off? And will thy wrath prevail? Hast thou forgot thy tender love? And will thy promise fail?

But faith forbids this hopeless thought, And checks this doubting frame; We know the works thy hand has wro't. Thy hand is still the same.

Long did the Sons of Jacob lie, By Egypt's yoke oppress'd; Didst thou refuse to hear their cry And give thy people rest?

In thine own way, thy chosen sheep Must hear thy mighty call; Must venture thro' the parted deep; Beside the liquid wall.

Strange was their journey thro' the sea, A path before unknown! Terrors attend their wond'rous way, But mercy leads them on.

Tho' trackless waves of ocean hide Thy footsteps from our sight; We'll follow where thy hand shall guide, For thou wilt lead us right.