To the God Whom we adore,
Sing a song unsung before.
His immortal praise rehearse,
Where His holy saints converse.
Israel, O thou His choice,
In thy Maker's praise rejoice.
Zion's sons, rejoice and sing
To the honour of your King.
In the dance His praise resound,
Strike the harp, let timbrels sound.
God, in goodness infinite,
In His people takes delight.
God with safety will adorn
Those whom men afflict with scorn.
Let His saints in glory joy,
Sing as in their beds they lie;
Highly praise the Living Lord.
Arm'd with their two-edged sword,
All the heathen to confound,
And the nations bord'ring round;
Binding all their kings with cords,
Fettering their captive lords,
That they in divine pursuit
May His judgments execute.
As 'tis writ, Such honour shall
Unto all His saints befall.