Verse 1
Tremble, ye fond of human praise,
Who seek, or love, the highest place,
Who rich in sacred honours rise!
Proud of your every grace and gift,
Yourselves, like Lucifer, ye lift,
And set your thrones above the skies:
Verse 2
But the Most-High shall cast you down,
If now ye will not fear his frown,
His vengeful wrath ye soon shall feel,
Defeated of your glorious aim,
O’erwhelm’d with everlasting shame,
Debas’d into the lowest hell.