The conqueror's Song.
To thine almighty arm we owe
The triumphs of the day;
Thy terrors, Lord, confound the foe,
And melt their strength away.
'Tis by thine aid our troops prevail,
And break united powers,
Or burn their boasted fleets, or scale
The proudest of their towers.
How have we chased them through the field,
And trod them to the ground,
While thy salvation was our shield,
But they no shelter found!
In vain to idol saints they cry,
And perish in their blood
Where is a rock so great, so high,
So powerful as our God?
The Rock of Isr'el ever lives,
His name be ever blest;
'Tis his own arm the vict'ry gives,
And gives his people rest.
On kings that reign as David did,
He pours his blessings down;
Secures their honors to their seed,
And well supports the crown.