1 Had not the Lord, may Isr'el say,
Had not the Lord maintain'd our Side,
When Men, to make our Lives a Prey,
Rose like the Swelling of the Tide:

2 The swelling Tide had stopt our Breath,
So fiercely did the Waters roll,
We had been swallow'd deep in Death;
Proud Waters had o'erwhelmed our Soul.

3 We leap for Joy, we shout and sing,
Who just escap'd the fatal Stroke;
So flies the Gird with chearful Wing,
When once the Fowler's snare is broke.

4 For ever blessed be the Lord,
Who broke the Fowler's cursed Snare,
Who sav'd us from the murd'ring Sword,
And made our Lives and Souls his Care.

5 Our Help is in Jehovah's Name,
Who form'd the Earth, and built the Skies:
He that upholds that wond'rous Frame
Guards his own Church with watchful Eyes.