1 Jesus, Thou God of nations, bend
The skies, and let the rain descend,
But not Thy wrath—in mercy bless
This land with showers of righteousness.

2 Pour down some tokens of Thy love;
Impending punishment remove:
Pour down the Spirit of Thy grace,
That every soul may seek Thy face.

3 Forbid this land should ever be
Forsaken utterly by Thee!
Let not Thy sore displeasure rest
Upon a nation so distressed.

4 Her woes, her poverty, her need,
With Thy compassion we would plead;
Enrich her, Lord, in every place,
With all the plenitude of grace.

5 O water every sacred ground,
Where’er the seeds of truth are found,
And make the fruits of Zion’s hill
The glory of this nation still.

6 Why should this once high-favored place
Be ever banished from Thy face?
Let not our sin our ruin prove,
In wrath descend not, but in love.