Part V, Part 6

Yet first the stricken earth shall mourn,
And deepest night obscure the skies,
I will not from My purpose turn.
Resolved My rebels to chastise.
My rebels shall with panic dread
Before the furious horsemen fly,
Climb the steep rocks with desperate speed,
Or panting in the thickets lie.
The cities shall be all forsook:
Ah! Smi, whither wilt thou go?
To whom for help or rescue look,
When ravaged by the' invading foe?

Adorn thee with thy richest dress,
With gems and gold their hearts to gain,
Colour with nicest art thy face.
And strive to please, but all in vain.

Thy beauty cannot take their eyes,
Or turn thy lovers' wrath away;
Thy lovers shall thy charms despise,
And seek, whom they abhor, to slay.

For I have heard a voice of woes.
And shrill complaints that pierce the skies,
Loud as a woman in her throes,
Sio?i's afflicted daughter cries.

Weary to death, she spreads her hands,
And wails her loss, and speaks her pain,
"Ah! woe is me, the ruffian bands
Have all my hapless children slain!"
HYMN Xni.
Almighty Lord of hosts.
On whose protecting grace
Thy quiet flock securely trusts.
In troublous evil days;
Who hear'st the faithful prayer,
Incline Thine ear to ours.
And guard us from the coming snare
With all Thy heavenly powers.
For us Thy guardian hand
Hath oft extended been.
When BabePs sons approach'd the land,
Thy mercy stepp'd between;
Thy mercy caught us up
As from our instant doom,
And frustrated the surest hope
Of antichristian Rome.

Thou, Lord, against our foes
Didst for Thy people fight,
Their dark conspiracies disclose,
And blast their open might;
Their consecrated hosts.
Their fleets invincible,
And baffle the triumphant boasts,
And subtlest plots of hefl.

Even now Thy piercing eye
The close design surveys.
Of men, who IsraePs God defy,
A false perfidious race.
Who treacherously contend
Our country to o'erthrow,
And watch the dreadful news to send
In the destructive blow.

With furious error blind.
With wild ambition's lust,
They reign, corrupters of mankind.
And murderers of the just.
Drunk with the martyrs' blood,
They all Thy laws disdain.
And boldly cry "There is no God,
Or none who died for man."

Such is the nation. Lord,
Who on our necks would tread!
Ah! do not use them as Thy sword,
Nor let their plots succeed:
But cast the wicked down,
Confound their angry pride,
And make the scatter'd aUens own
That God is on our side.