AN HYMN. REGARD, thou righteous God and true, Regard thy weeping people’s prayer, Before the sword our land go through, Before thy latest plague we bear, Let all to thee their smiter turn, Let all beneath thine anger mourn. The sword, which first bereav’d abroad, We now within _our_ borders see: We see, but slight thy nearer rod, So oft so kindly warn’d by thee: We still thy warning love despise, And dare thine utmost wrath to rise. Yet for the faithful remnants sake Thine utmost wrath awhile defer, If haply we at last may wake, And trembling at destruction near The _cause_ of all our evils _own_, And leave the sins for which we groan. Or if the wicked will not mourn, And ’scape the long-suspended blow, Yet shall it to thy glory turn, Yet shall they all thy patience know, Thy slighted love and mercy clear, And vindicate thy justice here. For his MAJESTY King GEORGE. IMMORTAL King of Kings, Whose favour or whose frown Monarchs and States to honour brings, Or turns them upside down; To thee in danger’s hour We for our sov’reign cry, Protect him by thy gracious power, And set him up on high. Not by a mighty host Can he deliver’d be; Let others in their numbers trust, We look, O Lord, to thee: Help to thy servant send, And strengthen from above, And still thy minister defend By thine almighty love. The spirit of thy grace, Thy heavenly unction shed, And hosts of guardian angels place Around his sacred head: Confound whoe’er oppose, Or force them to retire; Be thou a tower against his foes, Be thou a wall of fire. O bring him out of all His _sanctified_ distress, And by his name thy servant call, And fill him with thy peace: Shew him, almighty Lord, That thou _his_ Saviour art, And speak the soul-converting word _My son, give me thy heart_! A WORD to a PROTESTANT.