O Lord, I Will Praise Thee. - Isaiah xii.1.

A poem by William Cowper

I will praise thee every day,
Now thine anger’s turn’d away!
Comfortable thoughts arise
From the bleeding Sacrifice.


Here in the fair gospel-field,
Wells of free salvation yield
Streams of life, a plenteous store,
And my soul shall thirst no more.


Jesus is become at length
My salvation and my strength;
And his praises shall prolong,
While I live, my pleasant song.


Praise ye then his glorious name,
Publish his exalted fame!
Still his worth your praise exceeds,
Excellent are all his deeds.


Raise again the joyful sound,
Let the nations roll it round!
Zion, shout, for this is he,
God the Saviour dwells in thee!

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