To Thee, Most Holy, and Most High

To Thee

most Ho­ly

and most High

To Thee we bring our thank­ful praise;

Thy works de­clare Thy name is nigh

Thy works of won­der and of grace.

Our na­tion doomed to be a slave

[originally

Bri­tain was doomed to be a slave]

Her frame dis­solved; her fears were great;

When God a new sup­port­er gave

To bear the pil­lars of the state.

He from Thy hand re­ceived his crown

And swore to rule by whole­some laws;

His foot shall tread th’op­press­or down

His arm de­fend the right­eous cause.

Let haugh­ty sin­ners sink their pride

Nor lift so high their scorn­ful head;

But lay their fool­ish thoughts aside

And own the king that God hath made.

Such hon­ors nev­er come by chance

Nor do the winds pro­mo­tion blow:

’Tis God the Judge doth one ad­vance

’Tis God that lays an­oth­er low.

No vain pre­tense to roy­al birth

Shall fix a ty­rant on the throne:

God the great So­ver­eign of the earth

Will rise and make His jus­tice known.

His hand holds out the dread­ful cup

Of ven­geance mixed with va­ri­ous plagues

To make the wick­ed drink them up

Wring out and taste the bit­ter dregs.

Now shall the Lord ex­alt the just

And while He tram­ples on the proud

And lays their glo­ry in the dust

My lips shall sing His praise aloud.