 | The miscellaneous writings of Henry Ware |  |
248
FOR FAST-DAY.
1813.
Great King of all, our nation's God,
O, hear thy people's suppliant cry;
We bow beneath thy angry rod,
We raise to thee the tearful eye.
O, hear thy people's suppliant cry;
We bow beneath thy angry rod,
We raise to thee the tearful eye.
Dark tempests brood upon our land,
And sorrow sits on every face;
O, may we own thy chastening hand!
O, may we seek and find thy grace!
And sorrow sits on every face;
O, may we own thy chastening hand!
O, may we seek and find thy grace!
Thy favor, Lord, had raised us high—
High as our loftiest hopes could soar;
But humbled now in dust we lie,
And peace and glory are no more.
High as our loftiest hopes could soar;
But humbled now in dust we lie,
And peace and glory are no more.
For we abused the gifts of Heaven,
Consumed thy bounties on our lust,
Despised the word thy grace had given,
And trod thy promise in the dust.
Consumed thy bounties on our lust,
Despised the word thy grace had given,
And trod thy promise in the dust.
Lord, we with penitence confess;
We own thy grace, our sins we own;
Deign yet to turn, receive, and bless,
Nor drive thy children from thy throne.
We own thy grace, our sins we own;
Deign yet to turn, receive, and bless,
Nor drive thy children from thy throne.
| The miscellaneous writings of Henry Ware | |