Poems (Toke)/Psalm LXXVII

by Emma Toke

PSALM LXXVII.

O God I cried with humble voice,
 To Him my inmost feelings poured:
Yea, when my soul refused to hear
 The voice of peace, I sought the Lord.
I thought of Him, but still was sad,
 My spirit sank o'erwhelmed with woe;
For Thou dost hold my waking eyes,
 And grief forbids my words to flow.

I call to mind the days of old,
 The years for ever passed away,
And then I commune with my heart,
 And search my spirit's inmost way.
Will God for ever cast nus off'?
 Will He return in love no more?
Can mercy ne'er be found again?
 And is His gracious promise o'er?

Hath God forgotten all His love?
 In anger must His mercy fly?
Ah no! I humbly bow and say,
 It is mine own infirmity.
And then I will remember still
 The years of Thy right hand, O Lord;
I'll muse upon Thy handiworks,
 Thy blessings o'er our fathers poured.

Thy way is in the sanctuary,—
 Who is so great a God as Thou?—
The God that doest wondrous things,
 And show'st Thy strength to Israel now?
For Thou with Thine almighty arm
 Didst set Thy chosen people free;
The sons of Jacob, blessed of old,
 And Joseph, well beloved of Thee.

The waters saw Thee, Lord of all,
 The waters saw in mute dismay;
The depths were moved, the bursting skies
 Poured forth their arrows o'er Thy way!
The thunders shook yon heavens on high,
 The lightnings gleamed o'er earth and main;
This trembling world Thy presence owned,
 And bowed beneath Thy feet again.

Thy way is in the trackless sea,
 Thy path upon the billows' foam;
What mortal eye can trace Thy course,
 Or dare to pierce Thy mantling gloom!
'Twas Thou that with a shepherd's care
 Didst lead Thy chosen flock of old;
Didst guide them on by Moses' hand,
 And brought them safely to Thy fold.

E.

October 12, 1832.