An Hymn

Regard, Thou righteous God and true,
Regard Thy weeping people's prayer,
Before the sword our land go through,
Before Thy latest plague we bear,
Let all to Thee their smiter turn,
Let all beneath Thine anger mourn.

The sword which first bereaved abroad,
We now within our borders see:
We see but slight Thy nearer rod,
So oft, so kindly warn'd by Thee:
We still Thy warning love despise,
And dare Thine utmost wrath to rise.

Yet for the faithful remnant's sake
Thine utmost wrath awhile defer,
If haply we at last may wake,
And trembling at destruction near
The cause of all our evils own,
And leave the sins for which we groan.

Or if the wicked will not mourn
And 'scape the long-suspended blow.
Yet shall it to Thy glory turn,
Yet shall they all Thy patience know,
Thy slighted love and mercy clear,
And vindicate Thy justice here.
FOR HIS MAJESTY KING GEORGE,