Hymns for the Public Thanksgiving-Day, 6

God of love, who hear'st the prayer
Offer'd for a guilty land,
Thou dost yet Thy wrath forbear,
Hold awhile Thy lifted hand;
Thou with bowels of compassion
Giv'st us still a longer space:
Turn us then, the sinful nation
Conquer by Thy pardoning grace.

Thee in dreadful indignation
Marching through the land we saw,
Stopp'd by Israel's supplication,
Lo! Thou dost the scourge withdraw
O that all might hear and tremble
At the long-suspended rod,
All in Jesu's name assemble,
All confess the Son of God.

Grant us in this awful crisis.
Hearts Thy warning to receive,
Hearts to cast away our vices,
Hearts to sorrow and believe:
Humbly at Thy footstool mourning,
Let us groan Thy face to see,
Let us all at last returning
Find our help and rest in Thee.

Come, the contrite heart's Desire,
Friend of helpless sinners, come!
Hear and answer us by fire,
All our sins forgive — consume,
Humble us, and then deliver
Whom Thou dost awhile reprove,
Save us then, and save for ever,
God of everlasting love!