Sovereign of Heav’n and earth, be­hold
The na­tion at Thy feet;
There rich and poor, and young and old,
In low­ly pos­ture meet.

Thither would we with grate­ful frame,
Our thank­ful trib­ute bring,
And ce­le­brate the glo­ri­ous name
Of our ex­alt­ed king.

He breaks the bow and cru­el sword,
And makes the wars to cease;
Come, let us mag­ni­fy the Lord,
Who gives the na­tion peace.

The war­like trump no more we hear,
Inviting to the field;
No more do hos­tile ar­mies wear
The hel­met and the shield.

The thun­der­ing can­non cease to roar,
Nor spread de­struc­tion round;
The mur­der­ous en­gines now no more
Tear up the fer­tile ground.

See com­merce raise her faint­ing head,
And trade re­vive again;
Our nu­mer­ous fleets the seas o’er­spread,
And fear­less plow the main.

Before the Ma­jes­ty of Heav’n,
Our mer­cies past we own;
The work of peace alone was Thine:
Let praise sur­round the throne.