Blest Is He Who Cries to Heaven

Blest is he who cries to Heav­en

In the dark and ev­il day

Whose trans­gress­ions are for­giv­en

And whose sins are washed away;

Blest

when God to him im­put­eth

Not ini­qui­ty nor sin

And no hid­den guile pol­lut­eth

Spirit

heart

and soul with­in.

Long I kept in si­lence groan­ing

While my bones waxed weak and old;

Long my heart with grief was moan­ing

And to Thee

O God

was cold.

Day and night Thy hand op­pressed me

Moisture turned to sum­mer-drought

My trans­gress­ions sore dis­tressed me

While in vain I com­fort sought.

When

from Thee no long­er hid­ing

I con­fessed my sin to Thee

With my heart in Thee con­fid­ing

Thou in love for­gav­est me.

Now my heart is filled with glad­ness

Thou sur­round­est me with grace;

Songs of joy dis­pel my sad­ness

For Thou art my hid­ing-place.

Lord

in­struct and teach me ev­er

In the way that I should go;

With Thy coun­sel me de­liv­er

From the cun­ning of the foe.

For Thy grace and mer­cy ten­der

For Thy ta­ble and Thy Word

Thanks to Heav­en I will ren­der

And for­ev­er praise Thee

Lord.