Jesus, Thou God of Nations, Bend

Jesus

Thou God of na­tions

bend

The skies

and let the rain des­cend

But not Thy wrath—in mer­cy bless

This land with show­ers of right­eous­ness.

Pour down some to­kens of Thy love;

Impending pun­ish­ment re­move:

Pour down the Spir­it of Thy grace

That ev­ery soul may seek Thy face.

Forbid this land should ev­er be

Forsaken ut­ter­ly by Thee!

Let not Thy sore dis­plea­sure rest

Upon a na­tion so dis­tressed.

Her woes

her po­ver­ty

her need

With Thy com­pas­sion we would plead;

Enrich her

Lord

in ev­ery place

With all the ple­ni­tude of grace.

O wa­ter ev­ery sac­red ground

Where’er the seeds of truth are found

And make the fruits of Zi­on’s hill

The glo­ry of this na­tion still.

Why should this once high-fa­vored place

Be ev­er ban­ished from Thy face?

Let not our sin our ru­in prove

In wrath des­cend not

but in love.