1. O Lord, look down from heaven, behold|
And let Thy pity waken:
How few are we within Thy Fold,
Thy saints by men forsaken!
True faith seems quenched on every hand,
Men suffer not Thy Word to stand;
Dark times have us o'ertaken.
2. With fraud which they themselves invent
3. May God root out all heresy
4. Therefore saith God, I must arise,|
The poor My help are needing;
To Me ascend My people's cries,
And I have heard their pleading.
For them My saving Word shall fight
And fearlessly and sharply smite,
The poor with might defending.
5. As silver tried by fire is pure
6. Thy truth defend, O God, and stay
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