When war’s shrill blast abroad is heard,
With thrones like sap­lings shak­ing;
When peace, like an af­fright­ed bird,
Her flight from earth is tak­ing—
Know that a throne is set in Heav’n,
One sits up­on the throne who sees.

When there is wild con­fus­ion round,
Strange dis­cord and per­pe­tu­al din;
When vex­èd with the sight and sound
Of suf­fer­ing goodness, lord­ly sin—
Know that a throne is set in Heav’n,
One sits up­on the throne who hears.

When some dis­tress­ing, pierc­ing strain,
Or ma­nic shout shall reach thine ear,
And thou dis­cern­est there is pain
In count­less hearts thou canst not cheer—
Know that a throne is set in Heav’n,
One sits up­on the throne who knows.

When wea­ry of the cease­less fight
With Sa­tan and his ang­ry host,
Or when the world, in fan­cied might,
A moment o’er the Church may boast—
Know that a throne is set in Heav’n,
One sits up­on the throne in light.

A skill­ful hand, di­vine­ly strong,
Guides cours­es strange of change­ful years,
And it shall make to cease, ere long,
All cause of mi­se­ry and tears.
Know that a throne is set in Heav’n,
God sits up­on the throne in love.