Deliverance celebrated. Psalm cxvi. 8

Look back, my Soul, with grateful Love On what thy GOD has done; Praise him for his unnumber'd Gifts, And praise him for his Son.

How oft has his indulgent Hand My flowing Eye-Lids dried, And rescu'd from impending Death, When I in Danger cried!

When on the Bed of Pain I lay, With Sickness sore oppress'd, How oft has he asswag'd my Grief, And lull'd my Eyes to Rest!

Back from Destruction's yawning Pit At his Command I came; He fed th' expiring Lamp anew, And rais'd its feeble Flame.

My broken Spirit he has chear'd, When torn with inward Grief; And, when Temptations press'd me sore, Has brought me swift Relief.

My Soul from everlasting Death Is by his Mercy brought, To tell in Zion's sacred Gates The Wonders he has wrought.

Still will I walk before his Face, While he this Life prolongs; Till Grace shall all its Work compleat, And teach me heav'nly Songs.