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HYMN VII. FOR CONCORD.

Divided 'gainst itself so long
How could a kingdom stand,
Had we not a Redeemer, strong
To prop our tottering land?
Had He not left Himself a seed
Who deprecate the woe,
Who day and night for mercy plead,
And still suspend the blow.
Still let Thy praying seed prevail
Our evils to remove,
Till mercy turns the hovering scale,
And justice yields to love;

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His king till every Briton owns
With warmest loyalty,
And faction's and rebellion's sons
Stretch out their hands to Thee.
Now, Lord, a gracious token show,
The stoutest hearts incline
Their own true happiness to know,
Their common foes' design;
Against ourselves who turn our swords,
That they the spoils may gain,
And rise at last despotic lords,
And by our ruin reign.
Why should the specious fiend deceive
The many by the few?
Saviour, the multitude forgive,
They know not what they do;
They fancy those their country's friends,
Who hasten on its doom,
And blindly serve the treacherous ends
Of tyranny and Rome.
Open their eyes, almighty grace,
The latent snare to see,
That brethren may again embrace
In closest amity:
Britons! no more with Britons fight,
No more our God oppose!
Let Europe then their powers unite,
And all the world be foes.