The Lord of Hosts.--Ps. xlvi

Come, and behold the works of God,
What desolations he will make;
In vengeance when He wields His rod,
The heathen rage, their kingdoms quake;
He utters forth His voice;--'tis felt;
Like wax the world's foundations melt;
The Lord of Hosts is in the field!
The God of Jacob is our shield.

Again He maketh wars to cease,
He breaks the bow, unpoints the spear,
And burns the chariot;--joy and peace
In all His glorious march appear:
Silence, O Earth! Thy Maker own;
Ye gentiles, He is God alone;
The Lord of Hosts is in the field,
The God of Jacob is our shield.