1 To Thee, most Holy, and most High,
To Thee we bring our thankful praise;
Thy works declare Thy name is nigh,
Thy works of wonder and of grace.
2 Our nation doomed to be a slave,
[originally, Britain was doomed to be a slave]
Her frame dissolved; her fears were great;
When God a new supporter gave
To bear the pillars of the state.
3 He from Thy hand received his crown,
And swore to rule by wholesome laws;
His foot shall tread th’oppressor down,
His arm defend the righteous cause.
4 Let haughty sinners sink their pride,
Nor lift so high their scornful head;
But lay their foolish thoughts aside,
And own the king that God hath made.
5 Such honors never come by chance,
Nor do the winds promotion blow:
’Tis God the Judge doth one advance,
’Tis God that lays another low.
6 No vain pretense to royal birth
Shall fix a tyrant on the throne:
God the great Sovereign of the earth
Will rise and make His justice known.
7 His hand holds out the dreadful cup
Of vengeance mixed with various plagues,
To make the wicked drink them up,
Wring out and taste the bitter dregs.
8 Now shall the Lord exalt the just,
And while He tramples on the proud
And lays their glory in the dust,
My lips shall sing His praise aloud.
|First Line:||To Thee, most Holy, and most High|
|Title:||To Thee, Most Holy, And Most High|
|Source:||The Psalms of David, 1719|
|Source:||Harmonia Sacra, 1867|
|Adobe Acrobat image:|
|Noteworthy Composer score:||Noteworthy Composer Score|