LYRIC
Great God inspire each heart and tongue
Thy wondrous goodness to proclaim;
And bid the animating song
Glow with devotion’s lively flame.
To thee let favour’d Britain raise
Her sweetest notes of thankful praise.
But where shall we begin to trace
The wonders of thy hand divine?
In every season, every place
How numerous and how bright they shine.
To God ye favour’d Britons raise
Your sweetest notes of thankful praise.
Abroad, protection and success
Proclaim’d that Britain’s God was there;
At home, he bade fair plenty bless,
The fruitful fields confess’d his care;
To God ye favour’d Britons raise
Your sweet notes of thankful praise.
But yet beneath the hostile sword
Has many a worthy patriot bled,
And many a mourning heart deplor’d
A friend, a son, a brother dead!
The sword is sheath’d—ye Britons raise
To God your sweetest notes of praise.
The horrors of the sanguine field
Which sadden’d victory’s fairest plume,
To scenes of pleasure now shall yield
And peace her gentle reign resume.
To God ye favour’d Britons raise
Your sweetest notes of thankful praise.
Kind peace, from her propitious smiles
What numerous, various blessings flow!
Great God, to thee these happy isles
Unnumber’d obligations owe.
To thee let favour’d Britain raise
Her sweetest notes of thankful praise.
Crown, gracious God, thy gift of peace
With gifts yet nobler, more divine!
O let thy all-prevailing grace
Make Britain more entirely thine!
Devotion then to thee shall raise
Sublimer notes of thankful praise.
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