1 From foes that round us rise,
O God of heav'n, defend,
Who brave the vengeance of the skies,
And with thy saints contend.

2 Behold, from distant shores
And desert wilds they come,
Combine for blood their barb'rous force,
And through thy cities roam.

3 Beneath the silent shade
Their sacred plots they lay
Our peaceful walls by night invade,
And waste the fields by day.

4 And will the God of grace,
Regardless of our pain,
Permit, secure, that impious race
To riot in their reign?

5 In vain their secret guile,
Or open force they prove;
His eye can pierce the deepest veil,
His hand their strength remove.

6 Yet save them, Lord, from death,
Lest we forget their doom;
But drive them with thine angry breath,
Through distant lands to roam.

7 Then shall our grateful voice
Proclaim our guardian God:
The nations round the earth rejoice,
And sound the praise abroad.