1 To thee, who reign'st supreme above,
And reign'st 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 vict'ry 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 honours high
And o'er their hosts prevail'd.
4 Their mounds, their camps, their lofty towers
Into our hands are giv'n,
Not from desert or strength of ours,
But thro' the graceof heav'n.
5 The Lord of hosts, our helper lives;
His name be ever blest;
'Tis his own arm the vict'ry gives;
He grants his people rest.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | To thee, who reign'st supreme above |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1789 |
Topic: | Thanksgiving for Victory |
Notes: | Now Public Domain. |