1 Indulgent Sov'reign of the skies,
And wilt thou bow thy gracious ear?
While feeble mortals raise their cries,
Wilt thou, the great JEHOVAH, hear?

2 How shall thy servants give thee rest,
Till Zion's mould'ring walls thou raise?
Till thy own pow'r shall stand confess'd,
And make Jerusalem a praise?

3 Look down, O God, with pitying eye;
Revive thy work with power around;
See what wide realms in darkness lie,
And hurl their idols to the ground.

4 Lord let the gospel-trumpet blow,
And call the nations from afar;
Let all the isles their Saviour know,
And earth's remotest ends draw near.

5 On all our souls let grace descend,
Like heav'nly dew in copious show'rs,
That we may call our God our friend,
That we may hail salvation ours.

6 Then shall each age and rank agree
United shouts of joy to raise;
And Zion, made a praise by thee,
To thee shall render back the praise.