I give you all the credit, God - you got me out of that mess, you didn't let my foes gloat.
God, my God, I yelled for help and you put me together.
God, you pulled me out of the grave, gave me another chance at life when I was down-and-out.
All you saints! Sing your hearts out to God! Thank him to his face!
He gets angry once in a while, but across a lifetime there is only love. The nights of crying your eyes out give way to days of laughter.
When things were going great I crowed, "I've got it made.
I'm God's favorite. He made me king of the mountain." Then you looked the other way and I fell to pieces.
I called out to you, God; I laid my case before you:
"Can you sell me for a profit when I'm dead? auction me off at a cemetery yard sale? When I'm 'dust to dust' my songs and stories of you won't sell.
So listen! and be kind! Help me out of this!"
You did it: you changed wild lament into whirling dance; You ripped off my black mourning band and decked me with wildflowers.
I'm about to burst with song; I can't keep quiet about you. God, my God, I can't thank you enough.