Arise, O Lord, with healing rod,
Lift up Thine hand and save, O God;
Arise to help the meek: for why
Should impious tongues Thy name defy?
Aloud they boast,
Our acts are free;;
God hides His face, God will not see
But Thou hast seen: Thy piercing ray
Through sin’s dark windings flashes day.
Recorded by Thy righteous hand
The sinner’s deeds for judgment stand:
To Thee the poor commits his cause,
His help from Thee the friendless draws.
Quell Thou the scornful arm, and beat
The proud oppressor from his seat:
Proclaim—The reign of sin is o’er,
The place that knew it knows no more.
O Lord the King of boundless might,
The wicked perish from Thy sight:
’Tis Thine the drooping heart to cheer,
The cries of praying saints to hear.
The orphan’s injured cause to try,
And, in Thy people’s peril nigh,
To snatch them from the spoiler’s rage,
And guard their rightful heritage.