1 Where Thou hast chosen to reside,
Great God, fair Salem’s beauteous towers;
The heathen, with a conqueror’s pride,
And with a foe’s revenge devours!
Thy temple round with slaughter red
Which we adore, as well as dread.
2 The city once Thy dwelling place,
With dust and ruins covered o’er,
Their rage o’erturns; their swords deface,
Made wet with wretched Judah’s gore;
No friends their dying friends to mourn;
No eye to weep around their urn.
3 The victor’s fury to allay,
The bodies of our heroes slain
Become the wolves’ untimely prey,
The vulture’s food, on every plain.
Whose blood, like waves, our wall surrounds,
That issues from their streaming wounds.
4 Fair Zion, once Thy dear delight,
Does Syria’s loud derision grow;
Once great in arms, and famed in fight,
The scorn of each prevailing foe:
We sink beneath Thy jealous ire,
And near Thy blasting breath expire.
5 Oh, turn Thy shafts! and let the foe,
Deriding now Thy mighty power,
Thy anger feel; Thy fury know
The vengeance of one fearful hour;
Who, whelmed in death, across each plain,
Shall dread Thy name, they now disdain!
6 The vale where silver Jordan strayed,
With his propitious stream embraced;
Is, by proud Edom’s triumph, made
A scene of death! a frightful waste;
No sheaves our trodden furrows yield,
No harvests wave along the field.
7 Oh, drive and banish from Thy thought
That guilt which does our realms destroy;
Before Thy eyes be never brought
Those sins that rob of us of each joy;
Our mournful land with slaughter fill,
And more than Edom’s fury, kill.
8 Oh, with a parent’s pitying care,
Sad Judah’s wretched kingdoms save;
And those whose justice cannot spare
Let Thy superior mercy save;
Thy arm, that does our foe subdue,
Must be both strong and steady, too!
9 Assert Thy glorious strength around,
Thy Heav’n, Thy might, and Godhead’s fame;
That impious worlds, with dread profound,
May own, and tremble at Thy name;
Nor ask, in what Thy arm excels,
Who is our God, or where He dwells?
10 Rise then, in all Thy fury rise,
Be our avenging God once more;
Prostrate before our ravished eyes,
The nations glutted with our gore;
Our speaking wounds invoke Thy sky,
With a sad voice for vengeance cry!
11 Oh, let each sigh the captives send,
From the dark prison where they moan
In sadness, to Thy Heav’n ascend,
And calm Thy wrath; and move Thy throne;
And let Thy power, and pity save
The prisoners, destined to the grave;
12 On impious nations, that deride
Thy arm, a seven-fold vengeance shower;
And crush the haughty scorner’s pride,
And quell the loud blasphemer’s power.
That we Thy might in songs may raise,
As pleased to bless, as we to praise.
Source: The Cyber Hymnal #16482
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