Lord, visit them, an’ dinna spare,

For their misdeeds!

O Lord, my God! that glib-tongu’d Aiken,

My vera heart and saul are quakin’,

To think how we stood sweatin’, shakin’,

An’ pish’d wi’ dread,

While he wi’ hingin’ lip an’ snakin,

Held up his head.

Lord, in Thy day o’ vengeance try him!

Lord, visit them wha did employ him,