In this humble prayerful manner this long Psalm closes, and so will the believers life-story end. Confession mourns a thousand faults, faith sees grace still alive within the soul, and prayer pleads for divine mercy. With such a prayer our earthly life will come to a fitting FINIS.
Father, I bless thy gentle hand;
How kind was thy chastising rod,
That forc’d my conscience to a stand,
And brought my wand’ring soul to God.
Foolish and vain, I went astray
Ere I had felt thy scourges, Lord;
I left my guide, and lost my way,
But now I love and keep thy word.
Jerusalem, my happy home,
When shall I come to thee?
When shall my sorrows have an end?
Thy joys when shall I see?
Thy walls are made of precious stones,
Thy bulwarks diamond square;
Thy gates are of right orient pearl,
Exceeding rich and rare.
Thy turrets and thy pinnacles
With carbuncles do shine;
Thy very streets are paved with gold,
Surpassing clear and fine.