162. For the distress of war

1 Behold, O God, what cruel foes,
Thy peaceful heritage invade;
Thy holy temple stands defil'd,
In dust thy sacred walls are laid.

2 Wide o'er the vallies drench'd in blood,
Thy people fall'n in death remain;
The fowls of heaven their flesh devour,
And savage beasts divide the slain.

3 Th' insulting foes, with impious rage,
Reproach thy children to their face;
"Where is your God of boasted power,
"And where the promise of his grace?"

4 Deep from the prison's horrid glooms,
Oh hear the mournful captives sigh,
And let thy sov'reign power reprieve,
The trembling souls condemn'd to die.

5 Let those, who dar'd t' insult thy reign;
Return dismay'd with endless shame,
While heathens, who thy grace despise,
Shall from thy vengeance learn thy name.

6 So shall thy children, freed from death,
Eternal songs of honor raise,
And every future age shall tell,
Thy sov'reign power and pard'ning grace.

Text Information
First Line: Behold, O God, what cruel foes
Title: For the distress of war
Meter: Long Metre
Language: English
Publication Date: 1791
Scripture:
Tune Information
(No tune information)



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