1 O God, why hast thou cast us off?
is it for evermore?
Against thy pasture-sheep why doth
thine anger smoke so sore?
2 The congregation of thy choice
in thy remembrance hold,
the people who have purchased been
by thee in days of old.
The tribe of thine inheritance,
which thou redeemed hast,
this Zion hill, wherein thou hadst
thy dwelling in the past.
3 To these long desolations, Lord,
thy feet lift, tarry not,
for all the ills thy foes within
thy holy place have wrought.
4 In midst of thine own meeting-place
thine enemies do roar:
their ensigns they set up for signs
of triumph thee before.
5 It seemed as if one lifted up
is axe thick trees upon —
6 and now with hammer and with axe
they break its carvings down.
7 They fired have thy sanctuary,
and have defiled the same,
by casting down unto the ground
the place where dwelt thy name.
8 Thus said they in their hearts, Let us
destroy them out of hand:
they burnt up all the synagogues
of God within the land.
9 Our signs we do not now behold;
there is not us among
a prophet more, nor any one
that knows the time how long.
10 How long then shall the foe, O God,
And shall the adversary thus
always blaspheme thy name?
11 Thy hand, even thy right hand of might,
to stretch forth why delay?
why dost thou thus draw back?
O from thy bosom pluck it out
and sweep them quite away.
Source: The Irish Presbyterian Hymbook #P74a