Blest is the nation where the Lord

Hath fixed his gracious throne,

Where he reveals his heav'nly word,

And calls their tribes his own.

His eye with infinite survey

Does the whole world behold;

He formed us all of equal clay,

And knows our feeble mold.

Kings are not rescued by the force

Of armies from the grave;

Nor speed nor courage of a horse

Can the bold rider save.

Vain is the strength of beasts or men,

To hope for safety thence;

But holy souls from God obtain

A strong and sure defence.

God is their fear, and God their trust;

When plagues or famine spread,

His watchful eye secures the just

Among ten thousand dead.

Lord, let our hearts in thee rejoice,

And bless us from thy throne;

For we have made thy word our choice,

And trust thy grace alone.