1 O Isr'els Shepherd, Joseph's Guide,
Our Pray'rs to thee vouchsafe to hear;
Thou that do'st on the Cherubs ride,
Again in solemn State appear.
2 Behold how Benjamin expects,
With Ephraim and Manasseh join'd,
In our Deliv'rance, the Effects
Of thy resistless Strength to find.
3 Do thou convert us, Lord, do thou
The Lustre of thy Face display;
And all the Ills we suffer now,
Like scatter'd Clouds shall pass away.
4 O thou, whom heav'nly Hosts obey,
How long shall thy fierce Anger burn?
How long thy suff'ring People pray,
And to their Pray'rs have no Return?
5 When hungry, we are fotc'd to drench
Our scanty Food in Floods of Woe;
When dry, our raging thirst we quench
With Streams of Tears that largely flow.
6 For us the heathen Nations round,
As for a common Prey, contest:
Our Foes with spiteful Joy abound,
And at our lost Condition jest.
7 Do thou convert us, Lord, do thou
The Lustre of thy Face display,
And all the Ills we suffer now,
Like scatter'd Clouds shall pass away.
Part II
8 Thou brought'st a Vine from Egypt's Land;
And casting out the Heathen Race,
Didst plant it with thine own right Hand,
and firmly fix'd it in their Place.
9 Before it thou prepar'dst the Way,
and mad'st it take a lasting Root,
Which, bless'd with thy indulgent Ray,
O'er all the Land did widely shoot.
10,11 The Hills were cover'd with its Shade,
its goodly Boughs did Cedars seem:
Its Branches to the Sea were spread,
And reach'd to proud Euphrates Stream.
12 Why then hast thou its Hedges o'erthrown,
Which thou hadst made so firm and strong?
Whilst all its Grapes, defenceless grown,
Are pluck'd by those that pass along.
13 See how the bristling forest Boar
With dreadful Fury lays it waste:
Hark how the savage Monsters roar,
And to their helpless Prey make haste.
Part III
14 To thee, O God of Hosts, we pray;
Thy wonted Goodness, Lord, renew:
From Heav'n thy Throne this Vine survey,
And her sad State with Pity view.
15 Behold the Vineyard, made by thee,
Which thy right Hand did guard so long;
And keep that Branch from Danger free,
Which for thyself thou mad'st so strong.
16 To wasting Flames 'tis made a Prey,
And all its spreading Boughs cut down;
At thy Rebuke they soon decay,
And perish at thy dreadful Frown.
17 Crown thou the King with good Success,
By thy right Hand secur'd from Wrong:
The Son of Man in Mercy bless,
Whom for thy self thou mad'st so strong.
18 So shall we still continue free
From whatsoe'er deserves thy Blame;
And if once more reviv'd by thee,
Will always praise thy holy name.
19 Do thou convert us, Lord, do thou
The Lustre of thy Face display,
And all the Ills we suffer now,
Like scatter'd Clouds shall pass away.
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