Ah! whi­ther should we fly
In per­il and dis­tress,
While all the dogs of war are nigh,
The ene­mies of peace!
Almighty God of love,
On Thee our souls we cast
Hide Thou our hunt­ed lives ab­ove,
And save the land at last.

A leo­pard watch­es o’er
Our ci­ties night and day,
Prepared with un­re­lent­ing pow­er
To spring up­on the prey:
The ali­en ar­mies wait,
Lured by the scent of blood,
As awful min­is­ters of fate,
As thun­der­bolts of God.

Yet if our sin de­mands,
Its just re­ward of pain,
O let us fall in­to the hands
Of God, and not of man:
His ten­der mer­cies wound,
Remorseless as the grave;
But pi­ty in Thy wrath is found,
Which on­ly strikes to save.

In mea­sure then re­prove,
In love Thine own chas­tise,
But baf­fle, and far off re­move,
Our threat­en­ing ene­mies;
Blast their de­vic­es, Lord,
Nor let their coun­sel stand,
Break Thou the spear, and wrest the sword
Out of the ruf­fi­an’s hand.

Thyself the men re­strain
Who our de­struct­ion seek,
So shall they fierce­ly strive in vain
The sec­ret bar to break:
Their bound they can­not pass,
If God as­sign their bound,
And Je­sus, as a wall of brass,
Our trou­bled land sur­round.

But our de­fense is sure,
Whate’er ev­ent be­tide,
Beneath th’Almigh­ty Shade se­cure
Thy faith­ful ones abide:
’Till all the ty­ran­ny,
Of earth and hell is o’er,
Jesus, Thy migh­ty name shall be
Our ada­man­tine tow­er.

Tho’ fa­mine, plague, and sword
Hang o’er our sin­ful land,
The means of swift pre­ven­tion, Lord,
Are ev­er in Thine hand:
Or if the curse des­cend,
By so­ver­eign Love sub­dued,
The curse shall bless, the ill shall end
In ever­last­ing good.