CCCLXIX. Thanksgiving for National Deliverance, and Improvement of it.

SALVATION doth to GOD belong;
His Pow'r and Grace shall be our Song;
His Hand hath dealt a secret Blow,
And Terror strikes the haughty Foe.

Praise to the LORD, who bows his Ear
Propitious to his People's Pray'r;
And, tho' Deliv'rance long delay,
Answers in his well-chosen Day.

O may thy Grace our Land engage,
(Rescu'd from fierce tyrannic Rage,)
The Tribute of its Love to bring
To Thee, our Saviour, and our King!

Our Temples, guarded from the Flame,
Shall eccho thy triumphant Name;
And ev'ry peaceful private Home
To Thee a Temple shall become.

Still be it our supreme Delight
To walk as in thy honour'd Sight:
Still in thy Precepts and thy Fear
To Life's last Hour to persevere.