O

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.