1 Praise to the Lord, who bows his ear
Propitious to his people's pray'r;
And, though deliv'rance long delay,
Answers in his well chosen day.
2 Salvation doth to God belong;
His pow'r and grace shall be our song;
The tribute of our love we bring
To thee our Saviour and our King.
3 O temples, guarded from the flame,
Shall echo thy triumphant name;
And ev'ry peaceful private home
To thee a temple shall become.
4 Still be it our supreme delight
To walk us in thy honour'd sight;
Still in thy precepts and thy fear
Till life's last hour, to persevere.
5 O when shall time the period bring,
When peace shall stretch her balmy wing
O'er ev'ry land and ev'ry shore,
And raging war shall waste no more!