23. Not in anger smite us, Lord

Not in anger smite us, Lord, Spare Thy people, spare! If Thou mete us due reward We must all despair. Let the flood Of Jesus' blood Quench the flaming of Thy wrath, That our sin enkindled hath. Father! Thou hast patience long With the sick and weak; Heal us, make us brave and strong, Words of comfort speak. Touch my soul, And make me whole With Thy healing precious balm; Ward off all would bring me harm. Weary am I, Lord, and worn With my ceaseless pain; Sad the heart that night and morn Sighs for help in vain. Wilt Thou yet My soul forget, Waiting anxiously for Thee In the cave of misery? Hence, ye foes! God hears my prayer From His holy place; Once again with hope I dare Come before His face. Satan flee, Hell touch not me; God hath given me power o'er all, Who once mocked and sought my fall.

Text Information
First Line: Not in anger smite us, Lord
Title: Not in anger smite us, Lord
German Title: Straf mich nicht in deinem Zorn
Translator: Catherine Winkworth (1855)
Author: Albinus (1652)
Publication Date: 1861
Meter: 7,5,7,5,3,4,7,7
Language: English
Tune Information
(No tune information)