1 While o’er our guilty land, O Lord,
We view the terrors of Thy sword,
O whither shall the helpless fly?
To whom but Thee direct their cry?

2 The helpless sinner's cries and tears
Are grown familiar to Thine ears;
Oft has Thy mercy sent relief,
When all was fear and hopeless grief.

3 See, we repent, we weep, we mourn—
To our forsaken God we turn!
O spare our guilty country— spare
The Church which Thou hast planted there.

4 We plead Thy grace, indulgent God;
We plead Thy Son’s atoning blood,
We plead Thy gracious promises--
And are they unavailing pleas?

5 These pleas, presented at Thy throne,
Have brought ten thousand blessings down
On guilty lands in helpless woe;
Let them prevail and help us, too.