What Eyes Like Thine Eternal Sire

What eyes like thine, eternal Sire,
Through sin’s obscurest depths inquire?
What judge, like thee, on virtue’s foes
The needful vengeance can impose?

The meek observer of thy laws
To thee commits his injur’d cause:
In thee, each anxious fear resign’d,
The fatherless a father find.

Thine is the throne; beneath thy reign,
Immortal King, the tribes profane
Behold their dreams of conquest o’er,
And vanish to be seen no more.

‘Tis thine the orphan’s cheek to dry,
The guiltless suff’rer’s cause to try,
To rein each earth-born tyrant’s will,
And bid the sons of pride be still.