The Folly of Self-Dependence

1 Why should the haughty hero boast
His vengeful arm, his warlike host?
While blood defiles his cruel hand,
And desolation wastes the land.

2 He joys to hear the captive's cry,
The widow's groan, the orphan's sigh;
And when the weary'd sword would spare,
His falsehood spreads the fatal snare.

3 He triumphs in the deeds of wrong,
And arms with rage his impious tongue;
With pride proclaims his dreadful pow'r,
And b ids the trembling world adore.

4 But God beholds, and with a frown,
Casts to the dust his honours down;
The righteous freed, their hopes recal,
And hail the proud oppressor's fall.

5 How low the insulting tyrant lies,
Who dar'd th' eternal Pow'r despise;
And vainly deem'd with envious joy,
His arm Almighty to destroy.

6 We praise the Lord, who heard our cries,
And sent salvation from the skies;
The saints, who saw our mournful days,
Shall join our grateful songs of praise.

Source: Psalms: carefully suited to the Christian worship in the United States of America: being an improvement of the old versions of the Psalms of David #52b