Verse 1
Can the disciples of our Lord
With unconcern their country see
Destroy’d by parricides abhorr’d,
And not complain, O God, to thee?
The little flock, the pious few,
Whose number we aspire t’ increase,
When sinners reign, what can we do,
But pray against their wickedness?

Verse 2
Snatch’d from the flames by grace divine,
We see the dire assassin-band
Pursuing still their curst design,
To spread confusion through the land,
In league with our inveterate foe,
Indignant Britons to inthrall,
And gainers by the public woe
To triumph in their country’s fall.

Verse 3
The factious enemies to peace,
The friends of Gaul, and tools of hell,
They know, if wars and tumults cease,
They must their due demerits feel;
Their darkest works shall then appear,
If laws revive and order reign
And rulers, freed from servile fear,
No longer bear the sword in vain.

Verse 4
O might they, Lord, this moment rise,
With courage firm inspir’d by thee,
Nor suffer rebels to despise
Their mild, irresolute lenity!
Too mild, alas, for times like these,
Which sterner discipline require,
To stem the tide of wickedness,
And pluck us from th’ infernal fire.

Verse 5
Strengthen their hands, Almighty Lord,
Incline their hearts to seek thy face,
That truth and righteousness restor’d
May flourish as in ancient days,
That all the pardoning God may know,
Thy kingdom in their hearts receive,
And serve thy blessed will below,
And sav’d by grace for ever live!