O Lord, you cry to see the city
That does not know the ending hour;
For willful creatures you feel pity,
For helpless souls who need your power.
O God, how sad that friends ignore
The coming judgment soon at hand;
Those lovers of self we warn, we implore
The arrogant scoffing at your command.
With you, O Savior, let us cry
At our own hearts of hardened stone;
We mourn our sins, the wall we deny,
And the pride of life to which we’re prone.