1 Not to ourselves, who are but dust, Not to ourselves is glory due, Eternal God, thou only just, Thou only gracious, wise, and true.
2 Shine forth in all thy dreadful Name; Why should a heathen's haughty tongue Insult us, and to raise our shame Say, "Where's the God you've serv'd so long?"
3 The God we serve maintains his throne Above the clouds, beyond the skies, Thro' all the earth his will is done, He knows our groans, he hears our cries.
4 But the vain idols they adore Are senseless shapes of stone and wood; At best a mass of glittering ore, A silver saint, or golden god.
5 [With eyes, and ears they carve their head, Deaf are their ears, their eyes are blind; In vain are costly offerings made, And vows are scatter'd in the wind.
6 Their feet were never made to move, Nor hands to save when mortals pray; Mortals that pay them fear or love Seem to be blind and deaf as they.]
7 O Israel, make the Lord thy hope, Thy help, thy refuge, and thy rest; The Lord shall build thy ruins up, And bless the people and the priest.
8 The dead no more can speak thy praise, They dwell in silence and the grave; But we shall live to sing thy grace, And tell the world thy power to save.