Classic Poem

To thee, most high and holy God!
To thee our thankful hearts we raise;
Thy works declare thy name abroad,
Thy wondrous works demand our praise.

To slav'ry doom'd, thy chosen sons
Beheld their foes triumphant rise;
And sore oppress'd by earthly thrones,
They sought the Sov'reign of the skies.

'Twas then, great God! with equal pow'r,
Arose thy vengeance and thy grace,
To scourge their legions from the shore,
And save the remnant of our race.

Thy hand, that form'd the restless main,
And rear'd the mountain's awful head,
Bade raging seas their course restrain,
And desert wilds receive their dead.

Such wonders never come by chance,
Nor can the winds such blessings blow;
'Tis God, the Judge, doth one advance,
'Tis God that lays another low.

Let haughty tyrants sink their pride,
Nor lift so high their scornful head;
But lay their impious thoughts aside,
And own the empire God hath made.