STANZAS, adapted to the preceding discourse, and addressed to the American army

To him who led in ancient days The Hebrew tribes, your anthems raise; The God who spoke from Sinai's hill Protects his chosen people still.

Not to ourselves success we owe By help divine we crush'd the foe, In sword or shield who vainly trust Shall soon be humbled to the dust.

How vain all arms, the shield or spear, Unless the soul disdains to fear; But terror must their hearts annoy Who came to murder and destroy.

Those leaders fam'd, untaught to bow— Where are those hostile captains now?— The soldier rough, in steel array'd, Where is the sleeping soldier laid?

Lost!—to the lands of darkness fled, Or captive to your standards led, Behold that boasting, bloody band Who came to waste your native land:

Praise him who gives us to repell The powers of Britain and of Hell, With thankful hearts his goodness own, And bow before Jehovah's throne.