BRITAIN! Britain! favoured Britain,
Why weepest thou so sore?
By whom art thou afflicted thus?
Ne’er such in days of yore.
Long suffering hast Jehovah been
To our beloved land,
Since full four hundred years ago
He stretched to us His hand.
Within our borders everywhere
Brave witnesses He raised;
Our ministers were men of grace,
His name who truly praised.
The blessed Gospel was proclaimed
In North, South, East, and West,
And many were Christ’s followers
Who found in Him their rest.
To distribute His precious Word
He Britain did employ,
That heathen lands His Truth might hear,
All tongues His Word enjoy.
Yet long have we forgotten Him,
Who did us greatly bless;
To broken cisterns we have gone,
But all are water-less.
Yea, like the prodigal of old
A-wandering we did go,
From the Father’s house of plenty
To fields of sin and woe.
Forgetful of His precious Word
Where His delights are placed;
Their sorrows shall be multiplied
To other gods that haste.
O would that like the prodigal
We too were brought to see,
That all our substance we have spent
In living riotously.
Oh, land of truth and liberty,
From thy backslidings flee,
Call on the great Jehovah’s name,
And He’ll deliver thee.
His blessed Sabbath long despised.
Now seek ye to restore;
The walls of His Jerusalem,
Again build as of yore.
A broken Sabbath never will
The blight of famine stay,
When wicked men the earth do till
On His most Holy Day.
Read ye in the ancient Prophet
The sweet and blessed page,
Where wisdom’s words are treasured
For his and every age:
That when the fig-tree blossomed not,
The vines no fruit did bear,
The labour of the olive failed,
In fields no meat was there;
That when in stalls no herd was found,
The folds no flocks within,
E’en then this man of God rejoiced,
His trust the Lord was in.
Britain! Britain! favoured Britain,
Oh, hearken to His voice,
Obey the call of the Mighty One,
Who would thy heart rejoice.
A FREE PRESBYTERIAN.