To thee, O GOD, we render Praise,
To thee with daily Thanks repair;
For that thy Name to us is nigh,
Thy great and wond’rous Works declare.
For thou, O LORD, art still the same,
And very glorious is thy Name.

In Israel when my Throne is fix’d,
With me shall Truth and Justice reign;
The Land with Discord shakes, but I
The falling Pillars will sustain.
To Fools, I said, your Wrongs redress,
To wicked Men, your Pride suppress.

For that Promotion which to gain,
Your vain Ambition daily strives;
From neither East, nor West, nor North,
Nor yet from Southern Climes arrives.
For GOD will cast the Haughty down,
And lift the Humble to a Throne.

His Hand holds forth a dreadful Cup,
With purple Wine full mix’d ’tis crown’d,
The deadly Potion which his Wrath,
Shall pour upon the Nations round,
Its bitter Dregs shalt sinners squeeze,
And drink up all the deadly Lees.

But I will talk of Jacob’s GOD,
And to the World his Pow’r relate;
His Justice, Truth and Mercy too,
My song shall ever celebrate;
The Wicked shall before him fly,
The Just shall be exalted high.