Words: Brady and Tate, A New Version of the Psalms of David
1 To thee, O God, we render praise, to thee with thanks repair; For that thy Name to us is nigh, thy wondrous works declare. 2 In Israel when my throne is fixed, with me shall justice reign: 3 The land with discord shakes, but I the sinking frame sustain. 4 Deluded wretches I advised their errors to redress, And warned bold sinners, that they should their swelling pride suppress. 5 Bear not yourselves so high, as if no pow'r could yours restrain; Submit your stubborn necks, and learn to speak with less disdain. 6 For that promotion, which to gain your vain ambition strives, From neither east, nor west, nor yet from southern climes arrives. 7 For God the great disposer is, and sov'reign Judge alone, Who casts the proud to earth, and lifts the humble to a throne. 8 His hand holds forth a dreadful cup, with purple wine 'tis crowned; The deadly mixture, which his wrath deals out to nations round. Of this his saints sometimes may taste; but wicked men shall squeeze The bitter dregs, and be condemned to drink the very lees. 9 His prophet, I to all the world this message will relate; The justice then of Jacob's God my song shall celebrate. 10 The wicked's pride I will reduce, their cruelty, disarm; Exalt the just, and seat him high, above the reach of harm.