7 O Lord, thou hast my mountain madeto stand strong by thy love:But when that thou,O gracious God,didst hide thy face from me,Then quickly was my prosp'rous stateturn'd into misery.
8 Wherefore unto the Lord my cryI caused to ascend:My humble supplicationI to the Lord did send.
9 What profit is there in my blood,when I go down to pit?Shall unto thee the dust give praise?thy truth declare shall it?
10 Hear, Lord, have mercy; help me, Lord:
11 Thou turned hast my sadnessTo dancing; yea, my sackcloth loos'd,and girded me with gladness;
12 That sing thy praise my glory may,and never silent be.O Lord my God, for evermoreI will give thanks to thee.