Hymns for the Thanksgiving-Day, 1759, 3

With sober joy, and conscious fear.
Father, we in Thy sight appear.
Thy mercies and our sins confess.
And tremble, while we sing Thy praise.

Repentance to our thanks we join,
The ministers of wrath Divine,
The weapons in Thy vengeful hand,
The scourges of a sinful land.

Thou justly hast chastised Thy foes,
But spared the authors of their woes,
Indulged us with a kind reprieve.
And strangely suffer'd us to live.

Not for our nation's righteousness
Hast Thou vouchsafed our arms to bles.s.
For we have most rebeUious been,
For we have added sin to sin:

Have done Thy Spirit worse despite,
Sinners against superior light,
A favour'd, but unthankful race,
Who trample on Thy choicest grace.

Yet now before Thy gracious throne
Our deep ingratitude we own.
Poor guilty worms, who blush to prove
The riches of Thy patient love.

We offer up our weak desires,
Of giving what Thy love requires,
Of following after righteousness,
Of living to our Saviour's praise.

But while we render Thee Thine own,
Thy power be in our weakness shown.
Jesus, to each Thy love impart,
And bless us with a grateful heart.