Hymns for the Thanksgiving-Day, 1759, 7

Did they, O God, ascribe to Thee
Their strange escapes in dangers past?
Alas for them, alas for me.
So soon forgetful of the last!
Snatch'd from the antichristian power,
The gulf wide opening to devour.

Appall'd we saw the' invader's sword
March unopposed through half the land!
Jehovah then pronounced the word,
And lo! at Thy supreme command
The blasted savages of Rome
Recoil'd — and sunk into the tomb.

But have we by their ruin rose
To a new life of righteousness,
Or lull'd in more profound repose
Abused, and forfeited our peace?
Our peace is gone, our safety fled.
And our dead souls are doubly dead.

Call'd back by an ungrateful race,
The man on the red horse returns;
And while Thy wrath a moment stays.
The nation sports, the remnant mourns!
Ah! who of all Thy saints can tell
Shall grace or justice turn the scale?

Dare we again for respite cry,
Or deprecate the' impending blow?
If now Thou lay'st Thy thunder by,
And sav'st us from our fiercest foe.
Will Britain's sons their Saviour see,
And give the praise entire to Thee?

We fear, the saved unthankful throng
Will more and more obdurate prove,
Thy providential mercy wrong.
And trample on Thy richest love.
And when Thou turn'st the sword aside.
Thy judgments and Thy grace deride!
The Pretender's anny reached Derby December 4th, 1745.

But, for Thou hast not yet forbid
The good for the profane to pray,
Hear Thy own people intercede,
The rough east wind of judgment stay.
Till general penitence remove,
Or melt Thine anger into love.

Thy mercies all our thoughts transcend,
The worst Thou canst in Christ forgive;
O let our sins and troubles end,
O let our ransom'd nation live;
Hear the loud cry of Jesus' blood,
And save us through the death of God.
HYMN Vni.