1 Dear Lord, behold our sore distress; Our sins attempt to reign; Stretch out thine arm of conquering grace, And let thy foes be slain.
2 [The lion with his dreadful roar Affrights thy feeble sheep; Reveal the glory of thy power, And chain him to the deep.
3 Must we indulge a long despair, Shall our petitions die; Our mournings never reach thine ear, Nor tears affect thine eye?]
4 If thou despise a mortal groan, Yet hear a Saviour's blood; An Advocate so near the throne Pleads and prevails with God.
5 He bought the Spirit's powerful sword To slay our deadly foes; Our sins shall die beneath thy word, And hell in vain oppose.
6 How boundless is our Father's grace, In height and depth, and length! He makes his Son our righteousness, His Spirit is our strength.