1 Had not the Lord, may Israel say,
Had not the Lord maintained our side,
When men, to make our lives a prey,
Rose like the swelling of the tide.

2 The swelling tide had stopped our breath,
So fiercely did the waters roll,
We had been swallowed deep in death;
Proud waters had o’erwhelmed our soul.

3 We leap for joy, we shout and sing,
Who just escaped the fatal stroke;
So flies the bird with cheerful wing,
When once the fowler’s snare is broke.

4 For ever blessèd be the Lord,
Who broke the fowler’s cursèd snare,
Who saved us from the murdering sword,
And made our lives and souls His care.

5 Our help is in Jehovah’s name,
Who formed the earth and built the skies:
He that upholds that wondrous frame
Guards His own Church with watchful eyes.