How blest the man who thoughtfully
The poor and weak befriends;
Deliverance in the evil day
To him Jehovah sends.
The Lord will keep him, guard his life,
On earth he shall be blest;
The Lord will not surrender him
By foes to be distressed.

Upon the bed of suffering
Jehovah will sustain,
And in his sickness God will soothe
The weariness and pain.
O Lord, to Thee my cry ascends,
Let me Thy mercy see;
Heal Thou my soul, for I have sinned,
I have offended Thee.

My enemies against me speak,
And they my life have scorned;
They wish my name to pass away,
Unhonored and unmourned.
My foe, deceitful, visits me,
By seeming kindness led,
His heart intent on gathering
Some hurtful news to spread.

My foes, together whispering,
Their evil plans devise;
Disease, they say, cleaves fast to him,
Laid low, he shall not rise.
Yea, he who was my chosen friend,
In whom I put my trust,
Who ate my bread, now turns in wrath
To crush me in the dust.

Do Thou, Jehovah, show me grace,
And raise me up again,
That I with justice may requite
These base and wicked men.
By this I know assuredly
That I am loved by Thee,
Because my foe does not exult
In triumph over me.

And as for me, in uprightness
Thou dost uphold me well,
And settest me before Thy face
Forevermore to dwell.
Blest be Jehovah, Israel’s God
Forevermore. Amen.
Let age to age eternally
Repeat His praise. Amen.

Prayer is the key for the bending knee
To open the morn’s first hours;
See the incense rise to the starry skies,
Like perfume from the flow’rs.

Not a soul so sad, nor a heart so glad
When cometh the shades of night,
But the daybreak song will the joy prolong,
And some darkness turn to light.

Take the golden key in your hand and see,
As the night-tide drifts away,
How its blessèd hold is a crown of gold,
Thro’ the weary hours of day.

When the shadows fall, and the vesper call
Is sobbing its low refrain,
’Tis a garland sweet to the toil-dent feet,
And an antidote for pain.

Soon our toils will cease, and will come release;
Life’s tears shall be wiped away,
As the pearl gates swing, and the gold harps ring,
And we enter eternal day.

Before Thee, God, who knowest all,
With grief and shame I prostrate fall,
I see my sins against Thee, Lord,
The sins of thought, of deed, and word.
They press me sore; I cry to Thee:
O God, be merciful to me!

O Lord, my God, to Thee I pray:
O cast me not in wrath away!
Let Thy good Spirit ne’er depart,
But let Him draw to Thee my heart
That truly penitent I be:
O God, be merciful to me!

O Jesus, let Thy precious blood
Be to my soul a cleansing flood.
Turn not, O Lord, Thy guest away,
But grant that justified I may
Go to my house at peace with Thee:
O God, be merciful to me!