When Israel, of the Lord beloved, Out from the land of bondage came, Her father's God before her moved, An awful guide, in smoke and flame. By day along the astonished lands, The cloudy pillar glided slow; By night Arabia's crimsoned sands Returned the fiery columns' glow. There rose the choral hymn of praise, And trump and timbrel answered keen; And Zion's daughters poured their lays, With priests' and warriors' voice between. No portents now our foes amaze, Forsaken Israel wanders lone; Our fathers would not know Thy ways, And Thou has left them to their own. But present still, though now unseen, When brightly shines the prosperous day, Be thoughts of Thee, a cloudy screen, To temper the deceitful ray. And oh! when stoops on Judah's path, In shade and storm, the frequent night, Be Thou long-suffering, slow to wrath, A burning and a shining light. Our harps we left by Babel's streams, The tyrant's jest, the Gentile's scorn, No censer round our altar beams, And mute our timbrel, trump, and horn, But thou hast said, "The blood of goat, The flesh of rams I will not prize, A contrite heart, an humble thought, Are more accepted sacrifice."