The Lord has disciplined me severely,
But He has not given me over to death.
His hand, was heavy upon me;
In Sheol, a torent flooded over me,
Yet He did not leave me without hope.
I looked up, I could see,
There above the wave,
His hand,
His beautiful, gracious hand,
Stretched out and reached down,
Down to me.
He wiped my tears, my embittered heart hoped,
Then I wept all the more,
My tears though once a flood of sorrows,
Now Joy,
Tears of Gladness bubbling up as a spring.
Once sorrow continued in the face of the moon,
Now joy has dawned, like a cool breeze before the sun.
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It is buried,
Covered over,
In the depths of Sheol.
Who can mount up with wings from the valley,
That treacherous valley of death?
Who can live with the continual burning?
For lo, He scourges every son whom He receives.
Non, but he who orders his way aright according to His word.
Empowered by His Spirit of Favor,
A Helper that equips with Enduring Life Eternal.
Therein is the Hand that helps.
There is the Hand of Life,
The Hand of God.
Thank You,
My Lord,
And My God.
Thank You.