Thomson(i)
9 what profit is there in my blood; by my going down to corruption? Can dust celebrate thy praise; or can it proclaim thy truth?
10 The Lord heard and compassionated me: the Lord became my helper.
11 Thou didst turn my mourning into joy; thou didst rend in pieces my sackcloth and gird me with gladness,
12 that my glory might sound thy praise; and that I might not be absorpt in grief. Lord, my God, to thee I will give thanks for evermore.