Classic Poem

My thoughts the Lord their object make;
Before the ruddy morning spring
My glory of His praise shall sing;
Awake my lute, my harp awake,
While I to all the world rehearse
His praises in a living verse.

Thy mercy (O how great!) extends
Above the starry firmament,
Still unto tender pity bent:
Thy truth the soaring clouds transcends,
Thy head above the heav'ns erect,
Thy glory on the earth reflect.

O hear us, who Thy aid implore,
And with Thy own right Hand defend;
To Thy beloved succour send.
God by His sanctity thus swore: —
I Succoth's valley will divide,
In Sichem's spoils be magnified.

Manasseh, Gilead, both are Mine;
Ephraim My strength, in battle bold;
Thou, Judah, shalt My sceptre hold.
I will triumph o'er Palestine;
Base servitude shall Moab waste;
O'er Edom I My shoe will cast.

Who will our forward troops direct
To Rabbah strongly fortified,
Or into sandy Edom guide?
Lord, wilt not Thou, that didst reject,
Nor wouldst before our armies go,
Now lead our host against the foe?

When death and horror most affright,
Do Thou our troubled souls sustain,
For O, the help of man is vain!
Lead, and we valiantly shall fight.
Thy Feet our foes shall trample down,
Thy Hands our brows with conquest crown.