1 O Righteous God, thou judge supreme,
We tremble at thy dreadful name,
And all our trying guilt we own
In dust and tears before thy throne.

2 So manifold our crimes have been,
Such crimson tincture dyes our sin,
That, could we all its horrors know,
Our streaming eyes with blood might flow.

3 Estrang'd from reverential awe,
We trample on thy sacred law;
And, tho' such wonders grace hath done,
Anew we crucify his Son.

4 Justly might this polluted land,
Prove all the vengeance of thy hand;
And bath'd in heav'n, thy sword might come
To drink our blood, and seal our doom.

5 Yet hast thou not a remnant here,
Whose souls are fill'd with pious fear?
O bring thy wonted mercy nigh,
While prostrate at thy feet they lie.

6 Behold their tears, attend their moan,
Nor turn away their secret groan:
With these we join our humble pray'r;
Our nation shield, our country spare.

7 [But if the sentence be decreed,
And our dear native land must bleed,
By thy sure mark may we be known,
And save in life or death thy own.]