Walking on the wing­èd wind,
Fear be­fore Him, Death be­hind;
When the Lord came down in wrath,
Clouds and dark­ness girt His path.

Thence abroad His ar­rows flew,
Thick and fast they smote and slew;
We in dust and ash­es lay,
None could help, but all could pray.

Fervent pray­er had pow­er with God,
Caught the light­nings on its rod,
Faith and hope, amidst our bands,
Holding up its wea­ry hands.

Prayer pre­vailed amidst des­pair,
God de­lights to honor pray­er;
Judgment laid its ter­rors by,
Mercy beamed o’er earth and sky.

Now be sor­row turned to song,
Let the bruis­èd reed grow strong,
Smoking flax break forth and blaze,
Prayer trans­form it­self to praise.

Let the liv­ing now re­cord
All the good­ness of the Lord;
Him let the re­deemed ad­ore,
Go in peace, and sin no more.