1 Lord, look on this, our panting earth!
Behold our dying grain:
Our land oppressed with cruel dearth,
And groans for want of rain.
Our land is like the barren sands,
Beneath the burning sky!
And all her product withering stands,
And every plant must die.

2 All living creatures feel distressed,
And all their comfort fails;
The whole of nature is oppressed,
Because Thy wrath prevails.
Thy judgments Lord! are very just,
If Thou shouldst never grant
A single rain to lay the dust,
That could revive a plant.

3 Our minds are filled with dread and fear,
And conscious of our guilt;
The curses we deserve to bear,
They will, and must be felt.
O, we should feel a heavy hand!
A thing we never knew;
Should drought continue in our land,
Till famine would ensue.

4 With us it soon may be the case
As elsewhere it hath been;
Our wretched land in every place
Is filled and stained with sin.
Have mercy Lord, we humbly pray!
Send us a gracious rain.
O turn Thy fearful threats away!
Revive our hopes again.