1 Dear Lord, behold our sore distress;
Our sins attempt to reign;
Stretch out thine arm of conquering grace,
And let thy foes be slain.

2 [The lion with his dreadful roar
Affrights thy feeble sheep;
Reveal the glory of thy power,
And chain him to the deep.

3 Must we indulge a long despair,
Shall our petitions die;
Our mournings never reach thine ear,
Nor tears affect thine eye?]

4 If thou despise a mortal groan,
Yet hear a Saviour's blood;
An Advocate so near the throne
Pleads and prevails with God.

5 He bought the Spirit's powerful sword
To slay our deadly foes;
Our sins shall die beneath thy word,
And hell in vain oppose.

6 How boundless is our Father's grace,
In height and depth, and length!
He makes his Son our righteousness,
His Spirit is our strength.