1 To thee, who reign'st supreme above,
And reign's supreme below,
Thou God of wisdom, power, and love,
We our successes owe.
2 The thundering horse, the martial band,
Without thine aid were vain;
And victory flies at thy command
To crown the bright campaign.
3 Thy mighty arm, unseen, was nigh,
When we our foes assail'd;
'Tis thou hast rais'd our honors high,
And o'er their hosts prevail'd.
4 Their mounds, their camps, their lofty towers
Into our hands are given,
Not from desert or strength of ours,
But thro' the grace of heaven.
5 What tho' no columns lifted high
Stand deep inscrib'd with praise,
Yet sounding honors to the sky
Our grateful tongues shall raise.
6 To our young race will we proclaim
The mercies God has shown;
That they may learn to bless his name,
And choose him for their own.
7 Thus while we sleep in silent dust,
When threatening dangers come,
Their father's God shall be their trust,
Their refuge and their home.
Source: A Selection of Hymns: from the best authors, intended to be an appendix to Dr. Watt's psalms and hymns. (1st Am. ed.) #DXXIX
First Line: | To thee, who reignest supreme above |
Title: | Thanksgiving for Victory |
Author: | Thomas Gibbons |
Meter: | 8.6.8.6 |
Language: | English |
Copyright: | Public Domain |