LIIb. The folly of self-dependence

1 Why should the haughty hero boast,
His vengeful arm, his warlike host?
While blood defiles his cruel hand,
And desolation wastes the land.

2 He joys to hear the captive's cry,
The widow's groan, the orphan's sigh;
And when the wearied sword would spare,
His falsehood spreads the fatal snare.

3 He triumphs in the deeds of wrong,
And arms with rage his impious tongue;
With pride proclaims his dreadful power,
And bids the trembling world adore.

4 But God beholds, and with a frown,
Casts to the dust his honours down;
The righteous freed their hopes recall,
And hail the proud oppressors fall.

5 How low th' insulting tyrant lies,
Who dared th' eternal power despise;
And vainly deem'd with envious joy,
His arm almighty to destroy.

6 We praise the Lord, who heard our cries,
And sent salvation from the skies;
The saints, who saw our mournful days,
Shall join our grateful songs of praise.

Text Information
First Line: Why should the haughty hero boast
Title: The folly of self-dependence
Meter: Long Metre
Language: English
Publication Date: 1785
Scripture:
Tune Information
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