Hail, to the sov'reign pow'r, which broke
The strength of slavery's cursed yoke,
And freed our captive race;
Did all the rage of hell confound,
And gave our foe his fatal wound!
All hail, victorious grace!

Hail to the friend of human kind,
Who his celestial throne resign'd,
To succor man distress'd;
Who did unnumber'd wrongs forgive,
Who groan'd to bid the rebel live,
And died to make him blest!

To thee our lives, our souls we owe,
Our peace and purest joys below,
And brighter hopes above:
Then let our lives and all that's ours, —
Our souls, our passions, and our pow'rs,
Be sacred to his love.

Oh! when shall that great day arise,
When, in full glory, to our eyes,
Thy beauties shall appear!
Then, in far nobler, sweeter strains,
We'll praise thee on the blissful plains,
Through heav'n's eternal year.