O God, why hast thou thus
Repuls’d and scatter’d us?
Shall now thy wrath no limits hold,
But ever smoke and burn
Till it to ashes turn
The chosen folk of thy dear fold.
Ah! think with milder thought
On them whom thou has bought
And purchased from endless days!
Think of thy birthright lot
Of Zion, on whose plot
Thy sacred house supported stays.
Enough, enough we mourn!
Let us no more return
Repuls’d with blame and shame from thee;
But succor us oppress’d
And give the troubled rest
That of thy praise their songs may be.