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Thy Thunder Pealeth O'er Us

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 't is not by thine anger,
Those flashing bolts are hurl'd,
To desolate and humble
A proud and guilty world.

Though awful in its grandeur
The storm o'ermounts the sky,
It bears from thee a blessing,
Beneath its scowling eye.

Behind its steps more radiantly
The deep blue heavens will shine,
And the glad earth, rejoicing,
Pour forth her corn and wine.

But oh, there lieth brooding,
A cloud more dark and dread,
Above our guilty nation,
In fearful portent spread!

Though broad our frightful borders
All smilingly expand,
The curse of blood is on us,
And on our pleasant land.

For we have sinn'd before thee,
And caused 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, oh our God!

And touch our flinty bosoms
With thy dissolving grace,
That we may hate our vileness,
And weep before thy face.

poem by Elizabeth Margaret Chandler from Poetical Works (1836)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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