O blessed ever be the Lord

1 O blessed ever be the Lord,
who is my strength and might,
who doth instruct my hands to war,
my fingers teach to fight.
2 My goodness, fortress, my high tower,
deliverer, and shield,
in whom I trust: who under me
my people makes to yield.

3 Lord, what is man, that thou of him
dost so much knowledge take?
Or son of man, that thou of him
so great account dost make?
4 Man is like vanity; his days,
as shadows, pass away.
5 Lord, bow thy heavens, come down,
touch thou the hills,
and smoke shall they.

6 Cast forth thy lightning, scatter them;
thine arrows shoot, them rout.
7 Thine hand send from above, me save;
from great depths draw me out;
and from the hand of children strange,
8 Whose mouth speaks vanity;
and their right hand a right hand is
that works deceitfully.

9 A new song I to thee will sing,
Lord, on a psaltery;
I on a ten-stringed instrument
will praises sing to thee.
10 Even he it is that unto kings
doth his salvation send;
who his own servant David doth
from hurtful sword defend.

11 O free me from strange children’s hand,
whose mouth speaks vanity;
and their right hand a right hand is
that works deceitfully.
12 That like to well-grown plants our sons
in time of youth may be;
our daughters like to pillars carved
in palace fair to see.

13 That all our garners may be full,
store of all kinds may yield;
and that our flocks may thousands bear,
ten thousands in the field.
14 That strong our oxen be for work,
that no inbreaking be,
nor going forth; and that our streets
from outcry may be free.

15 Blest is the people that is found
in such a case as this;
yea, greatly is the people blest,
whose God Jehovah is.

Source: The Irish Presbyterian Hymbook #P144