1 O God of Zion! from thy throne,
Look with an eye of pity down;
Thy church now humbly makes her prayer--
Thy church, the object of thy care.
2 We are a building thou hast rais'd,
How kind thy hand, that hand be prais'd:
Yet all to utter ruin falls,
If thou forsake our tott'ring walls.
3 We call to mind the happier days
Of life and love, of prayer and praise,--
When holy services gave birth
To joys resembling heaven on earth.
4 but now the ways of Zion mourn,
Her gates neglected and forlorn:
Our life and liveliness are fled,
And many number'd with the dead.
5 We need defence from all our foes,
We need relief from all our woes;
If earth and hell should yet assail,--
Let neither earth nor hell prevail.
6 Near to each other and to thee,
Lord, bring us all in unity;
Oh pour thy Spirit from on high,
And all our num'rous wants supply.
7 Oh show that in our low estate,
No blessing for us is too great;
We plead thy Son, we plead thy word,
O Founder, Patron, bounteous Lord!