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The Book of Praise.
To me no ray was granted, Although I heard the psalms
The faithful sweetly chanted, And felt the waving palms.
With grief my heart was aching ;
O'erwhelming were my woes, Till, heaven-born courage taking,
To Thee my cry arose : " O David's Son, relieve me,
" My bitter anguish quell; " Thy promised succour give me,
"And this dark night dispel!"
With tears that fast were flowing,
I sought Thee through the crowd, My heart more tender growing,
Until I wept aloud : Oh ! then my grief diminish'd ;
For then they cried to me, " Blind man, thy woe is finish'd ;
"Arise, He calleth thee!"
I came with steps that falter'd ;
Thy course I felt Thee check ; Then straight my mind was alter'd,
And bow'd my stubborn neck : Thou saidst, " What art thou seeking ?
" O Lord ! that I might see !" Oh ! then I heard Thee speaking ;
" Believe, and it shall be."
Our hope, Lord, faileth never,
When Thou Thy word dost plight:
My fears then ceased for ever, And all my soul was light