To Thee, O God! our thanks we rear,
To Thee our thanks and pray­er;
For that Thy name is ev­er near,
Thy won­drous works de­clare.

I’ll judge up­right­ly, when our train
In due as­sem­bly stand;
Tho’ weak the earth, I will sus­tain
The pil­lars of the land.

Already to th’un­wise I cry,
“Ah! why thus mad­ly deal;
Or why, your horn ex­alt­ed high,
Such bold pre­sump­tion feel?

Raise not your horn, nor with rude mouth
Dispense your im­pi­ous lies;
For not from east, or west, or south,
Shall your pro­mo­tion rise.

And why? our judge is God alone,
He go­verns by His will:
He pulls the migh­ty from their throne,
Their place while oth­ers fill.

Red and well mixed, with­in His hand
He bears a dead­ly cup:
The dregs, the wick­ed at com­mand
Shall suck and swal­low up.

But I’ll the Lord of Ja­cob bless,
His name for ev­er praise;
The un­right­eous’ horns will I de­press,
The right­eous I will raise.