From whence these dire por­tents around,
That strike us with un­wont­ed fear?
Why do these earth­quakes rock the ground,
And threat­en our de­struct­ion near?
Ye pro­phets smooth, the cause ex­plain,
And lull us to re­pose again.

Or wa­ter swell­ing for a vent,
Or air im­pa­tient to get free,
Or fire with­in earth’s en­trails pent;
Yet all are or­dered, Lord, by Thee;
The ele­ments ob­ey Thy nod,
And na­ture vin­di­cates her God.

The pil­lars of the earth are Thine,
And Thou hast set the world there­on;
They at Thy threat­en­ing look in­cline,
The cen­ter trem­bles at Thy frown;
The ev­er­last­ing mount­ains bow,
And God is in the earth­quake now!

Now, Lord, to shake our guil­ty land,
Thou dost in in­dig­na­tion rise;
We see, we see Thy lift­ed hand
Made bare a na­tion to chas­tise,
Whom nei­ther plagues nor mer­cies move
To fear Thy wrath or court Thy love.

Therefore the earth be­neath us reels,
And stag­gers like our drunk­en men,
The earth the mourn­ful cause re­veals,
And groans our bur­den to sus­tain;
Ordained our ev­ils to de­plore,
And fall with us to rise no more.