Lord, When Thine Israel We Survey

Lord

when Thine Is­rael we sur­vey

We in their crimes dis­cern our own;

And if Thou turn our pray­er away

Our mi­se­ry must

like theirs

be known.

To us Thy pro­phets have been sent

With words of ter­ror and of love;

But nor the ven­geance

nor the grace

Ten thou­sand stub­born hearts will move.

Our eyes are blind

and deaf our ears;

Our hearts are hard­ened in­to stone;

As we would bar Thy mer­cy out

And leave a way for wrath alone.

Justly our God might give us up

To plague and fa­mine and the sword;

Till towns and ci­ties

rich and fair

Lay de­so­late with­out a Lord.

O’er bleed­ing wounds of slaugh­tered friends

Rivers of help­less grief might flow

Till the fierce con­quer­or’s haugh­ty rage

Dragged us to chains and slaugh­ter

too.

But spare a na­tion long Thine own

And show new mi­ra­cles of grace

’Tis Thine to heal the deaf and blind

And wake the dead to life and praise.