How Long O Lord Will Thy Dread Anger Hol
How long, O Lord, will thy dread anger hold?
How long shall rav’ning wolves devour thy fold?
Remember, Lord, the purchase thou hast made,
The tribes, redeem’d from bondage by thy aid,
The blest inheritance thou call’dst thy own,
The hill of Sion, where thou’st fix’d thy throne.
Arise, just God, restrain the mad’ning foe,
That with such impious pride and fury glow;
That, insolent and blasphemously vain,
Thy hallow’d temple with their hands profane.
Sounds the shrill trumpet, and the nations roar,
Not they who thee with humble hearts adore;
But those thy foes, that vile rebellious race,
Who on thy sacred tow’rs their standards place,
Wild with success, they range the city round,
They raze thy hallow’d temple to the ground;
The dread tremendous ruin, as it falls,
Hark! the dire crush! our sinking hearts appalls.
So fall, when conquer’d by redoubled strokes,
Down the steep mountain’s side the tumbling oaks.
They all it’s glorious ornaments destroy;
Beetles and bars their cruel hands employ;
View the whole fabrick, circled round with flame,
The fabrick sacred to thy holy name.
Fully resolv’d, they to each other say,
“Be this to Salem’s pride the final day;
“‘Bove other towns no longer let her soar;
“Fate threats her now, and she shall rule no more.”
Mean while, no signs of thy assistance; we,
No inspir’d prophet, to console us, see;
Not one, who e’en a slender hope can give,
That thou thy wretched people wilt relieve.
How long, good God, shall our insulting foes
Sport with thy people, and illude their woes;
How long wilt thou permit them to blaspheme,
With their reproachful taunts, thy sacred name?
Ah! why from us thy mighty hand withdrawn?
Ah! why thy once-lov’d tribes left so forlorn?
Of old our leader thou, our guide hast been;
For us thy wond’rous works all earth hath seen:
At thy command retir’d the foamy sea,
And with a double wall secur’d our way;
Then back at thy command obedient flows,
And with her surges overwhelms our foes.
The haughty tyrant, insolent and vain,
Fierce as the wildest monsters of the main,
Sunk in her waves, and on the desart shore
Was tost, for rav’nous vultures to devour:
Thou spak’st–hard rocks a plenteous stream supply;
Thou spak’st–the rivers leave their channels dry.
Thine is the day, O God, and thine the night;
The sun thou gildest with his beamy light;
Thou keep’st tthe mad’ning sea within her bounds:
The earth thou strengt’nest with her rocky mounds!
When rages winter with his horrid train,
Thou still with suited warmth reviv’st the plain;
When scorches summer with it’s sultry heat,
Thou fann’st the air, and giv’st a cool retreat.
And wilt not thou remember the disgrace,
Which cast the wicked on thy faithful race?
Wilt thou forget the mocking blasphemies,
Wherewith thy name tremendous they despise?
From their big insults free thy plaintive dove,
The once-blest objeft of almighty love;
Hear thy afflicted people, once thy boast,
Nor in oblivion let their cries be lost:
O call that holy covenant to mind,
Which with most solemn sanctions thou didst bind:
For dreadful, dreary darkness shades our head,
And cruelty around, and rapine spread.
O let not they, that love thy sacred name,
The indigent, th’ opprest, return with shame.
Arise, almighty Lord; thy pow’r exert;
Thine is the injur’d’s cause; their cause assert:
With rage besotted, lo! the impious croud
Speak ‘gainst thy pow’r their blasphemies aloud.
Forget not, Lord, their vile opprobious tongues,
Their big impieties, their ceaseless wrongs;
Still, still their monstrous villainies increase,
And with relentlefs hate they still oppress.