And will the God of grace
Perpetual si­lence keep?
The God of jus­tice hold His peace,
And let His ven­geance sleep?

Behold, what curs­èd snares
The men of mis­chief spread!
The men that hate thy saints and Thee
Lift up their threat­en­ing head.

Against Thy hid­den ones
Their coun­sels they em­ploy
And ma­lice, with her watch­ful eye,
Pursues them to de­stroy.

The no­ble and the base
Into Thy pas­tures leap;
The li­on and the stu­pid ass
Conspire to vex Thy sheep.

Come, let us join, they cry,
To root them from the ground,
Till not the name of saints re­main,
Nor me­mo­ry shall be found.

Awake, al­migh­ty God,
And call Thy wrath to mind;
Give them like for­ests to the fire,
Or stub­ble to the wind.

Convince their mad­ness, Lord,
And make them seek Thy name;
Or else their stub­born rage con­found,
That they may die in shame.

Then shall the na­tions know
That glo­ri­ous, dread­ful word,
Jehovah is Thy name alone,
And Thou the so­ver­eign Lord.