On the Public Fast, Feb. 6, 1756

See, gracious God, before thy throne
Thy mourning people bend!
'Tis on thy sov'reign grace alone,
Our humble hopes depend.

Tremendous judgments from thy hand,
Thy dreadful pow'r display;
Yet mercy spares this guilty land,
And yet we live to pray.

Great God, and why is Britain spar'd,
Ungrateful as we are?
O be these awful warnings heard,
While mercy cries, Forbear.

What num'rous crimes increasing rise
O'er all this wretched isle!
What land so favour'd of the skies,
And yet what land so vile!

How chang'd, alas! are truths divine.
For error, guilt, and shame!
What impious numbers, bold in sin,
Disgrace the christian name!

O bid us turn, almighty Lord,
By thy resistless grace;
Then shall our hearts obey thy word,
And humbly seek thy face.

Then should insulting foes invade,
We shall not sink in fear;
Secure of never-failing aid,
If God, our God, is near.