Classic Poem

See, gracious Lord! before thy throne,
Thy mourning people bend!
'T is on thy sov'reign grace alone,
Our humble hopes depend.

Tremendous judgments from thy hand
Thy dreadful pow'r display:
Yet mercy spares this guilty land,
And still we live to pray.

Great God! why is this nation spar'd,
Ungrateful as we are?
Oh! be thy voice of warning heard,
While mercy cries forbear.

What sins, what crimes increasing rise,
This nation to defile!
What land so favor'd of the skies?
And yet what land so vile?

How chang'd, alas! are truths divine,
For error, guilt, and shame!
What impious numbers, bold in sin,
Disgrace the Christian name!

Oh! turn us, turn us, mighty Lord!
By thy resistless grace;
Then shall our hearts obey thy word,
And humbly seek thy face.