HYMN V.
[Happy, for ever happy they]
Happy, for ever happy they,
Taken from the evil day,
Who will not live to see
Their country wasted and o'erthrown,
Or swell the sympathising groan
At Britain's misery.
The great vindictive day's begun,
God's destructive work we own,
Which general horror spreads;
His thunders roar, His lightnings shine,
And vials, big with wrath Divine,
Are bursting on our heads.
But while the showers of vengeance come,
May not prayer prevent our doom,
And save us from the fire?
Have we no part in Abraham's God?
Or is it not in Jesu's blood
To quench Thy flaming ire?
With the flagitious multitude,
Wilt Thou slay the just and good,
In whom Thou dost delight,
The men who tremble at Thy word?
Or shall not the great Judge and Lord
Of all the earth do right?
Wouldst Thou for fifty righteous men,
Wouldst Thou, for the sake of ten,
Have spared the wicked place?
And wilt Thou not ten thousand hear,
Who ceaseless advocates appear
For our abandon'd race?
Ten thousand now unite their cries
Mingled with that Sacrifice
Which did for all atone;
Thy church, in one request agreed,
For mercy ask, and only plead
The death of Abraham's Son.
The Son of Abraham, and Thine,
Just with righteousness Divine,
Doth in His members pray;
Our powerful Advocate and Head,
He ever lives to intercede,
And turn Thy wrath away.
Thou always hear'st Thy favourite Son;
Make in Him Thy mercy known,
That all again may see
Britannia pluck'd out of the flame,
And glorify our Saviour's name,
For ever One with Thee.
