Verse 1
While yet we call, the prayer is seal’d,
Thou answerest “Here am I to save!”
Thou hast thy faithful word fulfill’d,
Thy sovereign nod the victory gave,
Whate’er subservient causes join,
O King of kings, the work is thine.

Verse 2
Thee let thy prosperous servant own,
Sole author of his strange success,
Who liftest up, and castest down,
But dost with all thy blessings bless
The man that in his Maker trusts,
And glories in the Lord of hosts.

Verse 3
Rais’d up thro’ thee the righteous man,
Call’d to thy foot, and girt by thee,
Bid him a second Cyrus reign,
And execute thy whole decree;
Kings to his sword as dust bestow,
As driven stubble to his bow.

Verse 4
Whom thou dost for thy glory chuse,
Arm, and uphold with thy right hand:
The loins of hostile monarchs loose,
Nations subdue to his command,
While nought his rapid course can stay,
Nor earth, nor hell obstruct his way.

Verse 5
Before thy chosen servant go,
Thine utmost counsel to fulfil,
And when his work is done below,
And when he hath perform’d thy will,
Turn on him, Lord, thy son embrace,
And shew him all thy glorious face.