CCCXXXIX. The same. For a Fast-Day.

OUr Souls with Rev'rence, LORD, bow down
Struck by the Splendors of thy Throne;
Humbled, while in thy House we stand,
Beneath thy great tremendous Hand.

That Hand, which bears the steady Pole,
While Nature's Wheels unwearied roll;
That Hand, which gives each Creature Food,
And fills the World with various Good:

That Hand, which pierc'd thy darling Son
To expiate Crimes, that we had done:
That Hand, which scatters Grace abroad
To turn thy Foes to Sons of GOD.

But O! with what distracted Rage
Have we presum'd that Hand t' engage!
And, while long Patience hath been shewn,
Struggled to force thy Vengeance down!

Here might thy Wrath begin to flame,
And vindicate thine injur'd Name:
Till the ed Thunders of thy Hand
Had dealt Destruction round our Land.

With humble Hearts our GOD we meet:
O raise the Suppliants at thy Feet!
And let that glorious Arm this Day
Embrace the Rebels it might slay.