In Ju­dah God of old was known;
His name in Is­ra­el great;
In Sa­lem stood His ho­ly throne,
And Zi­on was His seat.

Among the prais­es of His saints
His dwell­ing there He chose;
There He re­ceived their just com­plaints
Against their haugh­ty foes.

From Zi­on went His dread­ful word,
And broke the threat­en­ing spear,
The bow, the ar­rows, and the sword,
And crushed th’As­sy­ri­an war.

What are the earth’s wide king­doms else
But migh­ty hills of prey?
The hill on which Je­ho­vah dwells
Is glo­ri­ous more than they.

’Twas Zi­on’s king that stopped the breath
Of cap­tains and their bands;
The men of might slept fast in death,
And ne­ver found their hands.

At Thy re­buke, O Ja­cob’s God,
Both horse and cha­ri­ot fell:
Who knows the ter­rors of Thy rod?
Thy ven­geance who can tell?

What pow­er can stand be­fore Thy sight,
When once Thy wrath ap­pears?
When Heav’n shines round with dread­ful light,
The earth lies still and fears.

When God in His own so­ve­reign ways
Comes down to save th’op­pressed,
The wrath of man shall work His praise,
And He’ll re­strain the rest.

Vow to the Lord, and tri­bute bring,
Ye princ­es, fear His frown;
His ter­ror shakes the proud­est king,
And cuts an ar­my down.

The thun­der of His sharp re­buke
Our haugh­ty foes shall feel;
For Ja­cob’s God hath not for­sook
But dwells in Zi­on still.