Ah God, from heav'n look down and see,

And let compassion move Thee,

How few, alas! Thy servants be,

How helpless those who love Thee.

Thy Word is suffer'd not to stand,

And Faith seems quench'd on ev'ry hand

In this dark time of trouble.

False teachings now men spread abroad,

Mere schemes of men's invention,

Not grounded on God's own true Word,

And so they breed dissension;

Their outward seeming may be fair,

But one goes here, another there,

And tends the Church asunder.

Therefore, saith God, I will arise,

These men my poor are wronging,

I hear my people's bitter sighs,

And I will grant their longing;

My striving Word shall take the field,

Shall be the poor man's strength and shield,

And all my foes shall conquer.

As silver that through fire hath passed

Is pure from all its drosses,

So shall God's Word shine forth at last

The brighter for these crosses;

Through trial is its power made known,

Till all men far and near shall own

How pure and strong its glory.

Therefore, O God, preserve it pure

From all that would abuse it,

And in the Faith our hearts secure,

That we may never lose it;

For trouble and rebuke shall be

Among the people,--when we see

Ungodly men exalted.