Oh, what a lantern, what a lamp of light Is thy pure word to me To clear my paths and guide my goings right! I swore and swear again, I of the statues will observer be, Thou justly dost ordain. The heavy weights of grief oppress me sore: Lord, raise me by the word, As thou to me didst promise heretofore. And this unforced praise I for an off'ring bring, accept, O Lord, And show to me thy ways.
What if my life lie naked in my hand, To every chance exposed! Should I forget what thou dost me command? No, no, I will not stray From thy edicts though round about enclosed With snares the wicked lay. Thy testimonies as mine heritage, I have retained still: And unto them my heart's delight engage, My heart which still doth bend, And only bend to do what thou dost will, And do it to the end.