1 I will extol thee, Lord, on high,
At thy command diseases fly:
Who but a God can speak and save
From the dark borders of the grave?

2 Sing to the Lord, ye saints, and prove
How large his grace, how kind his love,
Let all your pow'rs rejoice, and trace
The wond'rous records of his grace.

3 His anger but a moment stays;
His love is life and length of days:
Though grief and tears the night employ,
The morning stars restores the joy.