O where­fore hast Thou cast us off,
O God, our God of old?
Why art Thou ang­ry with Thy sheep,
The sheep of Thine own fold,
The sheep of Thine own fold?

Remember Thy in­her­it­ance,
Thy Church, re­deemed by grace;
Remember Zi­on’s mount pro­faned,
Thine an­cient dwell­ing place,
Thine an­cient dwell­ing place.

In ru­in long Thy tem­ple lies;
Arise, O God of grace,
And see the ru­in foes have wrought
Within Thy ho­ly place,
Within Thy ho­ly place.

Amid Thy courts are lift­ed high
The stan­dards of the foe,
And im­pi­ous hands with axe and fire
Have laid Thy tem­ple low,
Have laid Thy tem­ple low.

They have pro­faned the ho­ly place
Where Thou hast set Thy name,
The sanc­tu­ar­ies of our God
Are giv­en to the flame,
Are giv­en to the flame.

We see no signs of pow­er di­vine,
No pro­phet speaks for Thee,
And none can tell, and none can know,
How long these woes shall be,
How long these woes shall be.

How long, O God, shall blas­phe­my
And shame re­proach our land?
Why dost Thou not de­stroy Thy foes
With Thine al­migh­ty hand,
With Thine al­migh­ty hand?

O God, Thou art our king of old,
Salvation Thou hast wrought;
In safe­ty through the migh­ty sea
Our fa­thers Thou hast brought.

Withy migh­ty arm thou didst de­stroy
The pride of boast­ful man,
And for Thy peo­ple made a path
Where mighty wa­ters ran.

The day is Thine, and Thine the night,
And Thine the shin­ing sun;
At Thy com­mand the earth’s bounds are set
And chang­ing sea­sons run.

Mark how Thy ene­mies, O Lord,
Against Thee proud­ly speak;
Preserve Thy saints from wick­ed men,
Be mind­ful of the meek.

Fulfill, O Lord, Thy co­ve­nant,
Our strong pro­tect­or be,
For in the earth are dark abodes
Of crime and cru­el­ty.

Let not Thy saints be put to shame,
No long­er in Thy sight
Permit Thy foes to vaunt them­selves;
Lord, vin­di­cate the right.