William Billings - Mourn, mourn - текст песни (слова)

Mourn, mourn, mourn, mourn, 
 Pharaoh and Ahab prevail in our Land. 
 Mourn, mourn, mourn, mourn, 
 Achans abound and trouble the Land. 
 Mourn, mourn, mourn, mourn, 
 Darkness and clouds of awful shade 
 hang pendant by a slender thread, 
 waiting commission from God, the upholder, to fall and distress us. 
 Great God, avert th'impending doom; 
 We plead no merit of our own; 
 For mercy, Lord, we cry. 
 Bow down thine ear to our complaints, 
 And hear from heav'n, thou king of saints; 
 O let thine aid be nigh. 
 Then will the Lord be jealous for his Land, 
 and pity his people, and say 
 "Behold, your Pharaohs and Achans and Ahabs are no more." 
 Yea, the Lord will answer and say unto his People, 
 "Behold, I will send you corn, and wine, and oil, 
 and ye shall be satisfied therewith." 
 Be glad then America, shout and rejoice. 
 Fear not, O Land, be glad and rejoice. 
 Hallelujah, praise the Lord.