And man who moves, the lord of earth,
Acts but the part assigned by thee.
3 While suppliant crowds implore thy aid,
To thee we raise the humble cry;
Thy altar is the contrite heart,
Thy incense, the repentant sigh.
4 O may our land, in this her hour,
Confess thy hand and bless the rod,
By penitence make thee her Friend,
And find in thee a guardian God.