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Poem	Our king is the care of Heaven. The king, O Lord, with songs of praise, Shall in thy strength rejoice; And, blest with thy salvation, raise To heav'n his cheerful voice. Thy sure defence through nations round Has spread his glorious name; And his successful actions crowned With majesty and fame. Then let the king on God alone For timely aid rely; His mercy shall support the throne, And all our wants supply. But, righteous Lord, his stubborn foes Shall feel thy dreadful hand; Thy vengeful arm shall find out those That hate his mild command. When thou against them dost engage, Thy just but dreadful doom Shall, like a fiery oven's rage, Their hopes and them consume. Thus, Lord, thy wondrous power declare, And thus exalt thy fame; Whilst we glad songs of praise prepare For thine almighty name.
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