Classic Poem

From foes, that round us rise,
O God of heav'n! defend;
Who brave the vengeance of the skies,
And with thy saints contend.

Beneath the silent shade,
Their secret plots they lay;
Our peaceful walls by night invade,
And scourge our flesh by day.

Yet save them, Lord! from death;
Subdue them by thy word;
Confound their counsels with thy breath,
But pard'ning grace afford.

Then shall our grateful voice,
Proclaim our guardian God;
The nations round the earth rejoice,
And sound thy praise abroad.