Blest Is the Nation Where the Lord

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 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 sure and strong de­fense.

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.