IN grief and fear, to thee, O Lord, We now for succour fly, Thine awful...

IN grief and fear, to thee, O Lord, We now for succour fly, Thine awful judgments are abroad, O shield us, lest we die!

The fell disease on every side Walks forth with tainted breath; And pestilence, with rapid stride, Bestrews the land with death.

O look with pity on the scene Of sadness and of dread, And let thine angel stand between The living find the dead!

With contrite hearts to thee, our King We turn, who oft have strayed; Accept the sacrifice we bring, And let the plague be stayed.