| Esther Must we perish, O my nation, With the light of ages crowned! Surely there is yet salvation With our great Deliverer found; Cry aloud, then, Zion's Daughter, Rend with sorrowing groans the sky; Blunt with prayer the sword of slaughter - Hast, my people, ere we die! Thou, who shone our nation's glory, Mark the time of deep distress; Hear, with pitying ear, our story, See our anguish, Lord, and bless. But if thus our sins to chasten Though refuse thy children's cry, All submissive, I will hasten With my people, Lord, to die. From Macoy's 1866 Ritual |
