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Ye angels who stand round the throne
How are thy servants blest, O Lord !
How sure is their defence ! Eternal wisdom is their guide ;
Their help, omnipotence.
In foreign realms and lands remote,
Supported by Thy care, Through burning climes I pass'd unhurt,
And breathed untainted air.
Thy mercy sweeten'd ev'ry soil,
Made every region please ;
And smooth'd the Tyrrhene seas.
Think, O my soul, devoutly think,
How with affrighted eyes,
In all its horrors rise!
Yet then from all my griefs, O Lord,
Thy mercy set me free,
My soul took hold on Thee.
For though in dreadful whirls we hung
High on the broken wave,
Nor impotent to save.
Obedient to Thy will ;
At Thy command was still.
In midst of dangers, fears, and death,
Thy goodness I'll adore,
And humbly hope for more.
Thy sacrifice shall be ;
Shall join my soul to Thee.
When rising from the bed of death,
O’erwhelm'd with guilt and fear,
O how shall I appear!
And mercy may be sought,
And trembles at the thought :
In majesty severe,
Oh how shall I appear!
Then, see the sorrows of my heart,
Ere yet it be too late ;
Give all those sorrows weight!
For never shall my soul despair,
Thy mercy to procure,
To make that pardon sure!