Help, Lord, the godly fail!
Help, Lord, the faithful flee!
And double hearts and tongues prevail
That taunt Thy saints and Thee.
With sophistries and lies
They cheat the simple soul,
Teach men Thy Gospel to despise,
And spurn Thy mild control.
But ah! there is a voice
In this dark growth of crimes,
That bids prophetic hearts rejoice
In hope of brighter times.
The Word these fools oppose
Can well their scoffs endure,
As silver from the furnace flows
More precious and more pure.
Their rage but sooner brings
The Lord to earth again;
And safe beneath almighty wings,
His Church shall rest till then.