1 Blest is the nation where the Lord Hath fix'd his gracious throne; Where he reveals his heavenly word, And calls their tribes his own.
2 His eye, with infinite survey, Does the whole world behold; He form'd us all of equal clay, And knows our feeble mould.
3 Kings are not rescu'd by the force Of armies from the grave; Nor speed nor courage of an horse Can the bold rider save,
4 Vain is the strength of beasts or men To hope for safety thence; But holy souls from God obtain A strong and sure defence.
5 God is their fear, and God their trust, When plagues or famine spread, His watchful eye secures the just Amongst ten thousand dead.
6 Lord, let our hearts in thee rejoice, And bless us from thy throne; For we have made thy word our choice, And trust thy grace alone.