Classic Poem

There's none like to Jeshurun's God,
Who rides, thy helper high,
On heav'n; and in his pomp abroad
Upon the azure sky.

Th' eternal God thy home secure,
And refuge is from harms;
And underneath, to prop thee sure,
Are everlasting arms.

Before thy face he'll drive the foe,
That would thy rest annoy:
His pow'r resistless, to o'erthrow,
Shall need but say, destroy .

Then Isra'l safe alone shall dwell;
And Jacob's eye shall view
The land where corn and wine excell,
And heav'n distils its due.

O Isra'l happy in thy Lord,
No people's safe like thee:
He's of thy help, the shield, the sword
Of thy excellency.

Thus arm'd, thy foes shall stoop to thee,
To feign'd submission aw'd;
Thou shalt tread down their places high,
Their fence of lies and fraud.