Salvation doth to God be­long;
His pow­er and grace shall be our song;
His hand hath dealt a sec­ret blow,
And ter­ror strikes the haugh­ty foe.

Praise to the Lord, who bows His ear
Propitious to His peo­ple’s pray­er;
And, though de­li­ver­ance long de­lay,
Answers in His well chos­en day.

O may Thy grace our land en­gage,
Rescued from fierce ty­ran­nic rage,
The trib­ute of its love to bring
To Thee, our Sav­ior, and our king!

Our tem­ples, guard­ed from the flame,
Shall ec­ho Thy tri­umph­ant name;
And ev­ery peace­ful pri­vate home
To Thee a tem­ple shall be­come.

Still be it our su­preme delight
To walk as in Thy hon­ored sight:
Still in Thy pre­cepts and Thy fear
To life’s last hour to per­se­vere.