Psalms 30:1-12: in context

This is a psalm of thanksgiving after deliverance from a deadly crisis. I will extol you, LORD, for you have lifted me up and not let my foes rejoice over me; you healed me, brought my soul up from the grave. He calls the faithful to praise, with the famous line: his anger is but for a moment, his favor for a lifetime; weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes in the morning. He admits a lesson learned: in his prosperity he had grown complacent, thinking he would never be moved, until God hid his face and he was shaken. And it ends in praise: you have turned my mourning into dancing.

Two things stand out. First, the honest confession about prosperity: I said in my prosperity, I shall never be moved. In good times the psalmist had grown quietly self-assured, mistaking God's blessing for his own permanence, until God hid his face and he discovered how quickly his footing gave way. It is a common blindness, that ease breeds a false sense of security, and sometimes God lets the ground shift precisely to teach us that our strength was always his gift, not our possession. Second, the great promise held in the images of night and morning: weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes in the morning. The night of weeping is real, and it is honestly named; the psalm does not pretend the sorrow away. But it is framed as a night, something with a morning on the far side, whereas God's favor is a lifetime and his anger only a moment. The proportions are set: the weeping lasts a night, the joy comes with the dawn. And the end of it is that God turns mourning into dancing, not merely stopping the grief but transforming it into its opposite. The one who wept in the dark is the one dancing in the light.

Have I grown complacent in easy times, thinking I shall never be moved, and can I hold onto the promise that my night of weeping has a morning, and that God can turn even mourning into dancing?