Through Thee will we push down our enemies: through Thy name will we tread them under that rise up against us. For I will not trust in my bow, neither shall my sword save me. But Thou hast saved us from our enemies, and hast put them to shame that hated us. In God we boast all the day long, and praise Thy name for ever.@Psalm 44:5-8
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Philip Doddridge (1702-1751)

Philip Doddridge (1702-1751). Published posthumously in Hymns, Founded on Various Texts in the Holy Scriptures, by Job Orton (Shropshire, England: Joshua Eddowes & John Cotton, 1755), number 366: A military Ode.

Probably composed by David, to be sung when his army was marching out to war against the remnant of the devoted nations of Canaan, and first went up in solemn procession to the house of God at Jerusalem, there, as it were, to consecrate the arms, which he put into their hands.

Philip Doddridge

Lyons attributed to Johann M. Haydn (1737-1806); arranged by William Gardiner, Sacred Melodies (London: 1815) (🔊 pdf nwc).

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Johann M. Haydn (1737-1806)

O praise ye the Lord, prepare a new song,
And let all His saints in full concert join;
Ye tribes all assemble, the feast to prolong,
In solemn procession, with music divine.

O Israel, in Him that made thee, rejoice,
Let all Zion’s sons exult in their king;
While to martial dances you join a glad voice,
Your lutes, harps and timbrels, in harmony bring.

The Lord in His saints still finds His delight,
Salvation from Him the meek shall adorn;
They well may be joyful, sustained by His might,
And crowned by His favor may lift up their horn.

Let carpets be spread, and banquets prepared,
Those altars around, whence incense ascends;
Whilst anthems of glory thro’ Salem are heard,
And God, whom we worship, indulgent attends.

Then as your hearts bound with music and wine,
Inspired by the God who reigns in the place,
Unsheath all your weapons, and bright let them shine,
And brandish your falchions, while chanting His praise.

Then march to the field, the heathen defy,
And scatter His wrath on nations around;
Like angels of vengeance your swords lift on high,
And boast that Jehovah commissions the wound.

Their generals subdued, your triumphs shall grace,
And loaded with chains, their kings shall be brought;
The necks shall ye trample of Canaan’s proud race,
And all their last remnant for slaughter be sought.

No rage of your own such rigor demands;
A sentence divine your arms must fulfill;
Of old He this vengeance consigned to your hands,
And in sacred volumes recorded His will.

This honor, ye saints, appointed for you,
All-grateful receive, and faithful obey,
And while this dread pleasure resistless ye do,
Still make His high praises the song of the day.