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.