1 Arise, O Lord, with healing rod,
Lift up Thine hand and save, O God;
Arise to help the meek: for why
Should impious tongues Thy name defy?

2 Aloud they boast, Our acts are free;
God hides His face, God will not see;
But Thou hast seen: Thy piercing ray
Through sin’s dark windings flashes day.

3 Recorded by Thy righteous hand
The sinner’s deeds for judgment stand:
To Thee the poor commits his cause,
His help from Thee the friendless draws.

4 Quell Thou the scornful arm, and beat
The proud oppressor from his seat:
Proclaim—The reign of sin is o’er,
The place that knew it knows no more.

5 O Lord the King of boundless might,
The wicked perish from Thy sight:
’Tis Thine the drooping heart to cheer,
The cries of praying saints to hear,

6 The orphan’s injured cause to try,
And, in Thy people’s peril nigh,
To snatch them from the spoiler’s rage,
And guard their rightful heritage.