P.LIX. From foes, that round us rise

1 From foes, that round us rise,
O God of heav'n, defend,
Who brave the vengeance of the skies,
And with thy saints contend.

2 Behold, from distant shores,
And desert wilds they come,
Combine for blood their barb'rous force,
And thro' thy cities roam.

3 Beneath the silent shade,
Their sacred plots they lay,
Our peaceful walls by night invade,
And waste the fields by day.

4 And will the God of grace,
Regardless of our pain,
Permit secure that impious race,
To riot in their reign?

5 In vain their secret guile,
Or open force they prove;
His eye can pierce the deepest veil,
His hand their strength remove.

6 Yet save them, Lord, from death,
Lest we forget their doom;
But drive them with thine angry breath,
Thro' distant lands to roam.

7 Then shall our grateful voice
Proclaim our guardian God;
The nations round the earth rejoice,
And sound thy praise abroad.

Text Information
First Line: From foes, that round us rise
Meter: S. M.
Language: English
Publication Date: 1816
Scripture:
Topic: Prayer for national Deliverance
Tune Information
(No tune information)



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