Lord, hast Thou cast the na­tion off?
Must we for ev­er mourn?
Wilt Thou in­dulge im­mor­tal wrath?
Shall mer­cy ne’er re­turn?

The ter­ror of one frown of Thine
Melts all our strength away;
Like men that tot­ter drunk with wine,
We trem­ble in dis­may.

Our na­tion shakes be­neath Thy stroke
And dreads Thy threat­en­ing hand;
O heal the coun­try Thou hast broke,
Confirm the wa­ver­ing land.

Lift up a ban­ner in the field
For those that fear Thy name;
Save Thy be­lov­èd with Thy shield,
And put our foes to shame.

Go with our ar­mies to the fight,
Like a con­fed­er­ate God;
In vain con­fed­er­ate pow­ers unite
Against Thy lift­ed rod.

Our troops shall gain a wide re­nown
By Thine as­sist­ing hand;
’Tis God that treads the migh­ty down,
And makes the fee­ble stand.