To thee, Almighty God, we bring
The humble tribute of our songs:
O teach our thankful hearts to sing!
Or praise will languish on our tongues.

While Britain (favour’d of the skies)
Recalls the wonders God hath wrought;
Let grateful joy adoring rise,
And warm to rapture every thought.

When hell and Rome combin’d their pow’r,
And doom’d these isles their certain prey;
Thy hand forbade the fatal hour,
Their impious plots in ruin lay.

Again our restless cruel foes
Resum’d, avow’d, their black design;
Again to save us God arose,
And Britain own’d the hand divine.

Why, gracious God, is Britain sav’d?
Why blest with liberty and light?
Nor by fell tyranny enslav’d,
Nor lost in superstition’s night?

Not for our sakes, we conscious own;
A wretched, vile, ungrateful race:
‘Tis done to make thy glory known;
To shew the wonders of thy grace.

The wonders of thy grace compleat;
Reform this wretched, guilty land!
Let thankful love, beneath thy feet,
Confess thy kind, thy guardian hand!

Let every age adore thy name,
While nature’s circling wheels shall roll!
Thy mercies every tongue proclaim,
And sound thy praise from pole to pole.

Added by

Blessy Christlin


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