Thanks Be To God Who Heard Our Prayer
Thanks be to God, who heard our pray’r,
When we had fears and doubt;
When fierce diseases ev’ry where,
Compass’d our land about.
When death, that cruel tyrant made,
Poor mortals feel his pow’r;
And in another world have fled,
Not to return no more.
How melancholy was the sound,
To hear they dying groan:
Can no relief or help be found,
Till we are fled and gone.
And must our troubled spirits fly,
To God, who first them gave;
Our bodies only made to die!
And moulder in the grave.
Great God, how mournful was the scene;
Where e’er his was the case;
But great thy mercies e’er have been,
To those who trust thy grace.
Thanks be to God, that we are spar’d,
To see the present day.
O, make us ready, gracious Lord,
Till we be call’d away.