Lord, when Thine ancient people cried,
Oppressed and bound by Egypt’s king,
Thou didst Arabia’s sea divide,
And forth Thy fainting Israel bring.
Lo, in these latter days, our land
Groans with the anguish of the slave:
Lord God of hosts! stretch forth Thy hand,
Not shortened that it cannot save.
Roll back the swelling tide of sin,
The lust of gain, the lust of power;
The day of freedom usher in:
How long delays the appointed hour?
As Thou of old to Miriam’s hand
The thrilling timbrel didst restore,
And to the joyful song her land
Echoed from desert to the shore;
O let Thy smitten ones again
Take up the chorus of the free,—
Praise ye the Lord! His power proclaim,
For He hath conquered gloriously!