CCCLXVI. A MILITARY ODE.

O Praise ye the LORD, prepare a new Song,
And let all his Saints in full Consort join:
Ye Tribes all assemble the Feast to prolong,
In solemn Procession with Musick divine.

O Israel, in him that made thee rejoice;
Let all Zion's Sons exult in their King;
While to martial Dances you join a glad Voice,
Your lutes harps and timbrels in harmony bring.

The LORD in his Saints still finds his Delight;
Salvation from him the Meek shall adorn;
They well may be joyful, sustain'd by his Might,
And crown'd by his favour may lift up their horn.

Let Carpets be spread, and Banquets prepar'd
Those Altars around, whence Incense ascends;
Whilst Anthems of Glory thro' Salem are heard,
And GOD, whom we worship, indulgent attends.

Then as your Hearts bound with Musick & Wine,
Inspir'd by the GOD, who reigns in the Place;
Unsheath all your Weapons, and bright let them shine,
And brandish your Faulchions, while chaunting his Praise.

Then march to the Field; the Heathen defy;
And scatter his Wrath on Nations around:
Like angels of vengeance your swords lift on high
And boast, that Jehovah commissions the wound.

Their Gen'rals subdu'd your triumphs shall grace
And loaded with Chains their Kings shall be brought;
On the Necks shall ye trample of Canaan's proud Race,
And all their last remnant for slaughter be sought.

No Rage of your own such Rigour demands;
A Sentence divine your Arms must fulfill:
Of old he this vengeance consign'd to your hands,
And in sacred Volumes recorded his Will.

This Honour, ye Saints, appointed for you,
All-grateful receive, and faithful obey;
And, while his dread Pleasure resistless ye do,
Still make his high Praises the Song of the Day.