Psalm 60 Poem by Isaac Watts
Lord, hast thou cast the nation off?
Must we for ever mourn?
Wilt thou indulge immortal wrath?
Shall mercy ne’er return?
The terror of one frown of thine
Melts all our strength away;
Like men that totter drunk with wine,
We tremble in dismay.
Great Britain shakes beneath thy stroke
And dreads thy threat’ning hand;
O heal the island thou hast broke,
Confirm the wav’ring land.
Lift up a banner in the field
For those that fear thy name;
Save thy beloved with thy shield,
And put our foes to shame.
Go with our armies to the fight,
Like a confed’rate God;
In vain confed’rate powers unite
Against thy lifted rod.
Our troops shall gain a wide renown
By thine assisting hand
‘Tis God that treads the mighty down,
And makes the feeble stand.