Thy thunder pealeth o'er us,
God of the earth and sky!
And o'er the gloomy heavens,
The clouds roll dark and high;
But oh! there lieth brooding
A cloud more dark and dread,
Above our guilty nation,
In fearful portent spread.

Though broad our fertile borders
All smilingly expand,
The curse of blood is on us,
And on our pleasant land;
For we have sinn'd before thee,
And caus'd dark floods to roll,
Of tyranny and anguish,
Across our brother's soul.

But let not yet thine anger
Consume our blood-stain'd sod;
Extend a little longer
Thy mercy, O our God!
And touch our flinty bosoms,
With thy dissolving grace,
That we may hate our vileness,
And weep before thy face.