The Choir and The Oratory :: :: University of Virginia Library

Not unto us, not unto us, O Lord,
But let fresh glory to Thy name accrue.
For Thy own mercy's sake, O God, afford
Thy saving help; to shew that Thou art true.
Why should the heathen that around us dwell,
Say, Where is now the God of Israel?

141

Our God is in the heavens; there stands His throne;
Controlling all things by His sovereign will.
But theirs are idol gods of wood or stone.
The sculptor's cunning, or the goldsmith's skill,
Gives to the molten deity its mould,—
A man of silver, or a calf of gold.

Lips have they, but which never move in speech;
Eyes, but in them no conscious meanings dwell;
Ears that the votary's prayer can never reach,
Nor can their nostrils the rich incense smell.
Powerless those hands; those feet have never stirr'd;
Nor from their throat the oracle is heard.

Such are their gods: the makers are the same:
Let all who worship them become as dust.
O Israël, trust in Jehovah's Name,
Thy help and shield. O house of Aaron, trust
Only in Him, with all who fear the Lord;
Your help to succour, and your shield to ward.

142

The Lord, who hath remembered us for good,
His mercy still to Israel will shew:
Will bless His servants and the multitude
Of them that fear Him, whether high or low.
Rich blessings on their offspring shall descend,
Who call the Maker of the world their Friend.

Most high above all heavens our God doth reign.
This beauteous earth to Adam's race He gave,
That man might praise Him. Lord! Thy people slain,
How shall they praise Thee in the silent grave?
But we Thy saving mercy will adore,
And celebrate Thy praise for evermore.