CXVI. Unsuccessful Fasts accounted for.

O! Where is sov'reign Mercy gone?
Whither is Britain's GOD withdrawn?
That thro' long Years she should complain,
She fasts, and mourns, and cries in vain?

Hast thou not seen her suppliant Bands
Thro' all her Coasts extend their Hands?
Or has their oft-repeated Pray'r
Escap'd thine ever-list'ning Ear?

Thine Ear hath heard, thine Eye hath seen;
But Guilt hath spread a Cloud between;
And rising still before thy Face,
Averts thy long-intreated Grace.

Dispel that Cloud by Rays divine,
And cause thy chearing Face to shine;
Our Isle shall shout from Shore to Shore,
And dread encroaching Foes no more.

Our Light shall like the Morning spring;
Healing and Joy our GOD shall bring;
Justice shall in our Front appear,
And Glory gather up our Rear.