While o’er our guil­ty land, O Lord,
We view the ter­rors of Thy sword,
O whi­ther shall the help­less fly?
To whom but Thee di­rect their cry?

On Thee, our guard­ian God, we call;
Before Thy throne of grace we fall;
And is there no de­liv­er­ance there?
And must we per­ish in des­pair?

See, we re­pent, we weep, we mourn;
To our for­sak­en God we turn;
O spare our guil­ty coun­try, spare
The Church which Thou hast plant­ed there.

We plead Thy grace, in­dul­gent God,
We plead Thy Son’s aton­ing blood,
We plead Thy gra­cious pro­mis­es;
And are they una­vail­ing pleas?

These pleas, pre­sent­ed at Thy throne,
Have brought ten thou­sand bless­ings down
On guil­ty lands in help­less woe;
Let them pre­vail and help us, too.