Judge eter­nal, throned in splen­dor,
Lord of lords and King of kings,
With Thy liv­ing fire of judg­ment
Purge this land of bit­ter things;
Solace all its wide do­min­ion
With the heal­ing of Thy wings.

Still the wea­ry folk are pin­ing
For the hour that brings re­lease;
And the ci­ty’s crowd­ed clang­or
Cries aloud for sin to cease.
And the home­steads and the wood­lands
Plead in si­lence for their peace.

Crown, O God, Thine own en­dea­vor;
Cleave our dark­ness with Thy sword;
Feed the faint and hun­gry hea­then
With the rich­ness of Thy Word;
Cleanse the bo­dy of this na­tion
Through the Gos­pel of the Lord.