When wilt Thou save the peo­ple?
O God of mer­cy, when?
Not kings and lords, but na­tions,
Not thrones and crowns, but men!
Flowers of Thy heart, O God, are they;
Let them not pass, like weeds, away;
Their he­ri­tage a sun­less day:
O God, save the peo­ple!

Shall crime bring crime for­ev­er,
Strength aid­ing still the strong?
Is it Thy will, O Fa­ther,
That man shall toil for wrong?
No, say Thy mount­ains; No, Thy skies;
Man’s cloud­ed sun shall bright­ly rise,
And songs as­cend, in­stead of sighs:
O God, save the peo­ple!

When wilt Thou save the peo­ple?
O God of mer­cy, when?
The peo­ple, Lord, the peo­ple,
Not thrones and crowns, but men!
God save the peo­ple; Thine they are,
Thy child­ren, as Thine an­gels fair:
From vice, op­press­ion, and de­spair,
O God, save the peo­ple!