Britannia! Sister! woe is me!
Full fain would I console thy woe.
But, ah! how shall I comfort thee,
Who need the balm I would bestow?
United then let us repair, 65
As round our common Parent's grave;
And pouring out our heart in prayer,
Our heav'nly Father's mercy crave.
Until Jehovah from his throne
Shall heed his suffering people's fears; 70
Shall turn to song the Mourner's groan,
To smiles of joy the Nation's tears.
Praise to the Lord! Loud praises sing!
And bless Jehovah's righteous hand!
Again he bids a George, our King, 75
Dispense his blessings to the Land.
Hymn
O thron'd in Heav'n! Sole King of kings,
Jehovah! hear thy Children's prayers and sighs!
Thou Binder of the broken heart! with wings
Of healing on thy people rise! 80
Thy mercies, Lord, are sweet;
And Peace and Mercy meet,
Before thy Judgment seat:
Lord, hear us! we entreat!
When angry clouds thy throne surround, 85
E'en from the cloud thou bid'st thy mercy shine:
And ere thy righteous vengeance strikes the wound,
Thy grace prepares the balm divine!
Thy mercies, Lord, are sweet;
etc.
The Parent tree thy hand did spare— 90
It fell not till the ripen'd fruit was won:
Beneath its shade the Scion flourish'd fair,
And for the Sire thou gav'st the Son.
etc.
This thy own Vine, which thou didst rear,
And train up for us from the royal root, 95
Protect, O Lord! and to the Nations near
Long let it shelter yield, and fruit,
etc.
Lord, comfort thou the royal line:
Let Peace and Joy watch round us hand and hand.
Our Nobles visit with thy grace divine, 100
And banish sorrow from the land!
Thy mercies, Lord, are sweet;
And Peace and Mercy meet
Before thy Judgment seat;
Lord, hear us! we entreat! 105