1 Will God for ever cast us off!
His wrath for ever smoke
Against the people of his love,
His little chosen flock?
2 Think of the tribes so dearly bought
With their Redeemer’s blood;
Nor let thy Sion be forgot,
Where once thy glory stood.
3 Lift up thy feet, and march in haste,
Aloud our ruin calls;
See what a wild and fearful waste
Is made within thy walls.
4 Where once thy churches pray'd and sang
Thy foes profanely rage;
Amid thy gates their ensigns hang,
And there their hosts engage.
5 How are the seats of worship broke?
They tear the buildings down,
And he that deals the heaviest stroke,
Procures the chief renown.
6 With flames they threaten to destroy
Thy children in their rest;
Come let us burn at once, they cry,
The temple and the priest.
7 And still to heighten our distress,
Thy presence is withdrawn;
Thy wanted signs of pow'r and grace,
Thy pow'r and grace are gone.
8 No prophet speaks to calm our grief,
But all in silence mourn;
Nor know the times of our relief
The hour of thy return.
Pause.
9 How long, eternal God, how long
Shall men of pride blaspheme?
Shall saints be made their endless song,
And bear immortal shame?
10 Canst thou for ever sit and hear
Thine holy name profan'd?
And still thy jealousy forbear,
And still withold thine hand?
11 What strange deliv'rance hast thou shown
In ages long before?
And now no other God we own,
No other God adore.
12 Thou didst divide the raging sea
By thy resistless might,
To make thy tribes a wond'rous way,
And then secure their flight.
13 Is not the world of nature thine,
The darkness and the day?
Didst thou not bid the morning shine,
And mark the sun his way?
14 Hath not thy pow'r form'd ev'ry coast,
And set the earth its bounds,
With summer’s heat, and winter’s frost,
In their perpetual rounds?
15 And shall the sons of earth and dust
That sacred pow'r blaspheme?
Will not thy hand that form'd them first
Avenge thine injur'd name?
16 Think on the cov'nant thou hast made,
And all thy words of love;
Nor let the birds of prey invade
And vex thy trembling dove.
17 Our foes would triumph in our blood,
And make our hope their jest;
Plead thine own cause, almighty God,
And give thy children rest.
My Starred Hymns
My FlexScores
My Hymnals
My Purchased Files
