Thanks Be to God, Who Heard Our Prayer

Thanks be to God

who heard our pray­er

When we had fears and doubt;

When fierce dis­eas­es ev­ery­where

Compass our land about.

When death

that cru­el ty­rant made

Poor mor­tals feel his pow­er;

And to ano­ther world have fled.

Hence to re­turn no more.

How mel­an­cho­ly was the sound

To hear the dy­ing groan:

Can no re­lief or help be found

Till we are fled and gone?

And must our trou­bled spir­its fly.

To God

who first them gave?

Our bo­dies on­ly made to die

And mol­der in the grave?

Great God

how mourn­ful was the scene

Where’er this was the case;

But great Thy mer­cies e’er have been;

To those who trust Thy grace.

Thanks be to God

that we are spared

To see the pre­sent day.

O

make us rea­dy

gra­cious Lord

Till we be called away.