And yonder serve for ever.
OCCASIONED BY GREAT AND UNSEASONABLE RAIN.
O God! who dost Heav'n's sceptre wield
What is it that now makes our field,
And everything that it doth bear,
Such sad and ruin'd aspect wear?
Nought else, in truth, but that the band
Of men from Thee on every hand
Have fallen utterly away,
Their guilt increasing every day.