1 Blest is the Nation where the Lord
Hath fix'd his gracious Throne;
Where he reveals his heav'nly 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
Among 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.