Hymns and Odes IX

To Thee, beneath whose eye Each circling century Obedient rolls, Our nation, in its prime, Looked with a faith sublime, And trusted, in "the time That tried men's souls,"-- When, from this gate of heaven, People and priest were driven By fire and sword, And, where thy saints had prayed, The harnessed war-horse neighed, And horsemen's trumpets brayed In harsh accord. Nor was our fathers' trust, Thou Mighty One and Just, Then put to shame; "Up to the hills," for light, Looked they in peril's night, And, from yon guardian height, Deliverance came. There, like an angel form, Sent down to still a storm, Stood Washington! Clouds broke and rolled away; Foes fled in pale dismay; Wreathed were his brows with bay, When war was done. God of our sires and sons, Let other Washingtons Our country bless, And, like the brave and wise Of by-gone centuries, Show that true greatness lies In righteousness.