1 The impious atheist, in his folly proud,
At one all-powerful being laughs aloud.
Corrupt they're all; from virtue's path they turn,
And in the quenchless fires of lust they burn;
Their shocking crimes, their curst impieties,
Demand tremendous vengeance from the skies.
2 Th' All-high looks down from his etherial throne,
To see, if man his sov'reign pow'r will own;
If yet the sons of earth accept his sway,
His name revere, and his dread will obey.
3 Ah no! not one--they 'gainst their God conspire,
Pursue the dictates of each wild desire,
In filthy scenes their precious hours employ,
And make their shocking crimes their horrid joy.
4 Does then rank frenzy o'er the wicked reign,
That they such hideous blasphemy maintain,
That they my people, as their prey, devour,
And, obstinate, reject almighty pow'r?
5 But still their wretched hearts shall make with fear,
For, where the righteous are, God's always near,
The refuge of the just he'll constant prove;
The humble soul is sure to have his love;
6 And, while, ye wicked, you her hopes deride,
Falls direful vengeance on your impious pride.
7 From Sion's hill, O that the Lord wou'd send
His speedy aid, and Jacob's sons defend;
Wou'd his own people from their bondage free,
And give them back their long'd-for liberty;
Then shou'd the race of Israel shout for joy,
And their glad tongues in grateful hymns employ.