1 How hast thou Lord, from year to year,
Our land with plenty crown'd?
And generous fruit and golden grain
Have spread their riches round.
2 But we Thy mercies have abus'd
To more abounding crimes:
What heights, what daring heights in sin
Mark and disgrace our times!
3 Equal tho' awful is the doom,
That fierce descending rain
Should into inundations swell,
And crush the rising grain!
4 How just that in the autumn’s reign,
When we had hop'd to reap,
Our fields of sorrow and despair
Should lie a hedious heap.
5 But, Lord, have mercy on our land,
Those floods of vengeance stay;
Dispel these glooms, and let the sun
Shine in unclouded day!
6 To thee alone we look for help;
None else of dew or rain
Can give the world the smallest drop,
Or smallest drop restrain.
Source: A Selection of Hymns: from the best authors, intended to be an appendix to Dr. Watt's psalms and hymns. (1st Am. ed.) #DII