1 In strains before unsung, in noblest lays,
Ye saints of his, your great Creator praise.
2 Ye sons of Israel; 'tis to him you owe
Your life, your glory; grateful rapture shew:
Ye blooming train, that round our Sion throng,
Sing to your heav'niy king a joyous song;
3 Join in the dance in honour of his name;
With timbrels and with harps his praise proclaim.
4 All-clement, he his happy people loves,
And their religious melody approves;
And everlasting joy will he bestow
On all that humbly 'fore his altar bow,
5 Sing then, ye saints, his glory all the day,
His mighty acts, his wond'rous works display;
And in the solemn silence of the night,
Ere laid to rest, Jehovah's praise recite.
6 Your dread Creator's praise your blest employ,
Let heav'n's high concave eccho with your joy;
While wield your nervous arms th' avenging sword
Against the nations that reject his word.
7 Dread punishments shall then their souls await;
They fly--they fall--perdition is their fate
8 Their sceptred kings, their haughty chieftains, mourn
In hard, in ruthless chains, their fate forlorn;
9 And thus they feel from your victorious hand
The heavy woes your God had fore-ordain'd;
While thro' the regions of the world shall fly
Your bright renown, your glorious victory.