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.