1 To fancied gods while all the nations bend,
Our faithful tribes th' almighty Lord attend;
In Judah is his pow'r, his glory known;
2 Salem's his temple, Sion is his throne.
3 'Twas here he broke the sword, the shaft, the spear;
And all the deadly implements of war.
4 What bright majestic terror round him shone,
When he earth's mighty tyrants tumbled down?
5 Struck by his pow'r, they fell an easy prey;
Sunk in eternal deep their eyes, they lay.
6 Vain was the chariot, useless was the steed;
Trembled at his rebuke their hearts with dread.
7 And just their fear, for who his wrath can stand?
Who dare the thunder of his vengeful hand?
8 Did not, when he, in majesty array'd,
Came down, propitious, to his servant's aid?
Did not high heav'n the awful sentence hear?
Was not th' astonish'd earth struck mute with fear?
10 His punishments, that on oppressors fall,
Rejoice the good, the impious soul appall.
11 Ye tribes, that round his sacred temple dwell,
Your victims offer, and his praises tell;
12 Vow to your God, who, dreadful in his wrath,
Humbles the haughty monarchs of the earth.