9 How long, eternal God, how long Shall men of pride blaspheme? Shall saints be made their endless song, And bear immortal shame?
10 Canst thou for ever sit and hear Thine holy Name profan'd? And still thy jealousy forbear, And still withhold thine hand?
11 What strange deliverance hast thou shown In ages long before! And now no other God we own, No other God adore.
12 Thou didst divide the raging sea By thy resistless might, To make thy tribes a wondrous way, And then secure their flight.
13 Is not the world of nature thine, The darkness and the day? Didst thou not bid the morning shine, And mark the sun his way?
14 Hath not thy power form'd every coast, And set the earth its bounds, With summer's heat and winter's frost, In their perpetual rounds?
15 And shall the sons of earth and dust That sacred power blaspheme? Will not thy hand that form'd them first Avenge thine injur'd Name?
16 Think on the covenant thou hast made, And all thy words of love; Nor let the birds of prey invade And vex thy mourning dove.
17 Our foes would triumph in our blood, And make our hope their jest; Plead thy own cause, almighty God! And give thy children rest.
Psalm 75. Power and government from God alone. Applied to the glorious Revolution by King William, or the happy Accession of King George to the Throne.
1 To thee, most holy, and most high, To thee, we bring our thankful praise; Thy works declare thy name is nigh, Thy works of wonder and of grace.
2 Britain was doom'd to be a slave, Her frame dissolv'd, her fears were great; When God a new supporter gave To bear the pillars of the state.
3 He from thy hand receiv'd his crown, And sware to rule by wholesome laws His foot shall tread th' oppressor down, His arm defend the righteous cause.
4 Let haughty sinners sink their pride, Nor lift so high their scornful head; But lay their foolish thoughts aside, And own the king that God hath made.
5 Such honours never come by chance, Nor do the winds promotion blow; 'Tis God the judge doth one advance, 'Tis God that lays another low.
6 No vain pretence to royal birth Shall fix a tyrant on the throne: God the great sovereign of the earth Will rise and make his justice known.
7 [His hand holds out the dreadful cup Of vengeance, mix'd with various plagues, To make the wicked drink them up, Wring out and taste the bitter dregs.
8 Now shall the Lord exalt the just, And while he tramples on the proud, And lays their glory in the dust, My lips shall sing his praise aloud.]