1 In grief and fear, to thee, O Lord,
We now for succor fly;
Thine awful judgments are abroad,
O shield us, lest we die.

2 The fell disease on every side
Walks forth with tainted breath;
And pestilence, with rapid stride,
Bestrews the land with death.

3 O look with pity on the scene
Of sadness and of dread;
And let thine angel stand between
The living and the dead.

4 With contrite hearts, to thee, our King,
We turn who oft have strayed;
Accept the sacrifice we bring,
And let the plague be stayed.

5 We offer thee the incense sweet
That from the heart doth rise:
Good works, with true repentance meet,
Shall be our sacrifice.