O, may the pow’r which melts the rock

Be felt by all assembled here!

Or else our service will but mock

The GOD whom we profess to fear!

Lord, while thy judgments shake the land,

Thy peoples’ eyes are fixed on thee!

We own thy just, uplifted hand,

Which thousands cannot, will not see.

How long hast thou bestowed thy care

On this indulged ungrateful spot?

While other nations, far and near,

Have envied and admired our lot.

Here peace and liberty have dwelt,

The glorious gospel brightly shone;

And oft our enemies have felt

That GOD has made our cause his own.

But ah! both heav’n and earth have heard

Our vile requital of his love!

We, whom like children he has reared,

Rebels against his goodness prove.

His grace despised, his pow’r defied,

And legions of the blackest crimes,

Profaneness, riot, run, and pride,

Are signs that mark the present times.

The Lord, displeased, has raised his rod;

Ah where are now the faithful few

Who tremble for the ark of God,

And know what Israel ought to do?

Lord, hear thy people everywhere,

Who meet to mourn, confess and pray;

The nation and thy churches spare,

And let thy wrath be turned away.