1 Great framer of unnumber'd worlds,
And whom unnumber'd worlds adore!
Thy goodness all thy creatures share,
And nature trembles at thy pow'r.
2 While suppliant crowds implore thine aid,
To thee we raise the humble cry:
Thine alter is the contrite heart;
Thine incense a repentant sigh.
3 But if injustice grind the poor,
Or av'rice stain the sordid hand,
Or stern ambition thirst for blood,
Or rude oppression waste the land:
4 The God, who hears the orphan's cry,
The martyr's pray'r, and pris'ner's groan,
Still list'ning to the poor opprest,
Would spurn th' oppressor from him throne.
5 Yet, though enormous crimes abound,
Should but a genuine sorrow rise;
And, as new troubles threaten round
'Midts wasting wars and angry skies,
6 Should, in her sober hour, our land
Confess thy hand and bless the rod:
Thou still wouldst love to be her friend,
Who lov'd to own thee as her God.
Source: A Collection of Hymns and A Liturgy: for the use of Evangelical Lutheran Churches; to which are added prayers for families and individuals #421