Thanksgiving Hymn by Charles Wesley

 

1 God of love, who hear’st the prayer

Offered for a guilty land,
Thou dost yet thy wrath forbear,
Hold a while thy lifted hand;
Thou with bowels of compassion
Giv’st us still a longer space:
Turn us then, the sinful nation,
Conquer by thy pard’ning grace.

2 Thee in dreadful indignation

Marching through the land we saw,
Stopped by Israel’s supplication,
Lo! Thou dost the scourge withdraw:
O that all might hear and tremble
At the long-suspended rod,
All in Jesu’s name assemble,
All confess the Son of God!

3 Grant us in this awful crisis,

Hearts thy warning to receive,
Hearts to cast away our vices,
Hearts to sorrow and believe:
Humbly at thy footstool mourning,
Let us groan thy face to see,
Let us all at last returning,
Find our help and rest in thee.

4 Come, the contrite heart’s desire,

Friend of helpless sinners, come!
Hear and answer us by fire,
All our sins forgive—consume,
Humble us, and then deliver
Whom thou dost a while reprove,
save us then, and save forever,god of everlasting love!

- Charles Wesley
Hymns for the Public Thanksgiving Day, Oct. 9, 1746. London: [Strahan], 1746.