CCLXXVIII. Satan's Strong-Holds cast down by the Gospel.

SHOUT, for the Battlements are fall'n,
Which Heav'n itself defy'd!
Th' aspiring Tow'rs, dismantled all,
Now spread their Ruins wide!

Thy wondrous Trumpets, Prince of Peace,
Sent forth their mighty Sound;
The Strength of Jericho was struck,
And totter'd to the Ground .

No more proud Reas'nings shall dispute
What Truth divine declares;
No more Self-Righteousness to plead
Its own Perfection dares.

No Strength our ruin'd Pow'rs can boast
Thy Precepts to fulfill:
No Liberty we ask or wish
For our rebellious Will.

The Gates we open to admit
The Saviour's gentle Sway:
Blest Jesus, 'tis thy Right to reign,
Our Pleasure to obey.

Each Thought in sweet Subjection held
Thy sov'reign Pow'r shall own;
And ev'ry Traitor shall be slain,
That dares dispute the Throne.