1 Behold, O God, what cruel foes,
Thy peaceful heritage invade;
Thy holy temple stands defil'd,
In dust thy sacred walls are laid.
2 Wise o'er the valleys, drench'd in blood,
Thy people fall'n in death remain;
The fowls of heav'n their flesh devour,
And savage beasts divide the slain.
3 The insulting foes, with impious rage,
Reproach thy children to their face;
"Where is your God of boasted pow'r,
And where the promise of his grace."
4 Deep from the prison's horrid glooms,
Oh hear the mournful captive sigh,
And let thy sov'reign pow'r reprieve,
The trembling souls condemn'd to die.
5 Let those, who dar'd insult thy reign,
Return dismay'd with endless shame,
While heathens, who by thy grace despise
Shall from thy vengeance learn thy name.
6 So shall thy children, freed from death,
Eternal songs of honour raise,
And ev'ry future age shall tell,
Thy sov'reign pow'r and pard'ning grace.
Source: Church Hymn Book: consisting of newly composed hymns with the addition of hymns and psalms, from other authors, carefully adapted for the use of public worship, and many other occasions (1st ed.) #P.LXXIX
|First Line:||Behold, O God, what cruel foes|
|Title:||For the Distress of War|