In Pity to a Dying World

In pi­ty to a dy­ing world

Almighty Fa­ther

send Thy grace;

And let Thy ban­ner be un­furled

And faith’s slow tri­umph speed its pace.

What mill­ions of im­mor­tal souls

Still live un­mind­ful of Thy sway!

And as death’s fear­ful tor­rent rolls

Hundreds are dai­ly swept away.

O Lord

must crea­tures be un­done

Who from Thy hand re­ceive their breath?

Shall they be lost

for whom Thy Son

Came down to suf­fer shame and death?

Let sov­er­eign mer­cy in­ter­pose

To res­cue sin­ners from their doom;

And send Thy word to heal their woes

And light their pas­sage to the tomb.

O spread Thy truth through ev­ery clime

Teach stub­born souls to weep and pray;

Let this be the ac­cept­ed time

And this sal­va­tion’s glo­ri­ous day.