Where thy hand strewed with their unburied dead
The Red Sea waves?
Must fire and hail from heaven upon us fall,
Our first-born perish ’neath the Avenger’s brand,
And sevenfold darkness, like a funeral pall
O’erspread the land?
We kneel before thy footstool, gracious God,
Spare thou our nation, in thy mercy spare;
We perish quickly ’neath thy lifted rod
And arm made bare.