You did in days of old,
When You supplied our fathers' needs
With gracious acts and bold.
For neither bow nor blade, dear King,
Can halt our haters' host;
But every day, in everything,
Your name shall be our boast.
Are we cast off and so disgraced,
Made for our foes a spoil?
Must we from scorn to scorn be chased,
Our cheeks with blushes boil?
A proverb though we may become,
A shaking of the head,
Your deeds of old within us thrum:
Deliver us from dread!
Had we forgotten, Lord, Your name,
Or stretched our hands elsewhere,
Would You not intercept the same,
Detect our faithless prayer?
But for Your honor, all day long,
Our very lives we pledge.
Hear our faint-hearted, chastened song;
Recall us from the edge!
Awake, O Lord! Why do you sleep?
Arise! Hide not Your face,
Nor cast us off into the deep;
Heal the oppressed with grace!
Behold our soul, bowed to the dust,
Our flesh pressed to the ground:
Rise, help, redeem! In You we trust,
Whose mercies e'er abound.
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