Not to Our Names

Not to our names

Thou on­ly just and true

Not to our worth­less names is glo­ry due;

Thy pow­er and grace

Thy truth and jus­tice claim

Immortal hon­ors to Thy sov­er­eign name:

Shine through the earth from Heav’n

Thy blest ab­ode

Nor let the hea­thens say

And where’s your God?

Heav’n is Thine high­er court

there stands Thy throne

And through the low­er worlds Thy will is done;

Our God framed all this earth

these heav’ns He spread;

But fools ado­re the gods their hands have made:

The kneel­ing crowd

with looks de­vout

be­hold

Their sil­ver sav­iors

and their saints of gold.

Vain are those art­ful shapes of eyes and ears;

The molt­en im­age nei­ther sees nor hears;

Their hands are help­less

nor their feet can move

They have no speech

nor thought

nor pow­er

nor love;

Yet sot­tish mor­tals make their long com­plaints

To their deaf id­ols and their move­less saints.

The rich have sta­tues well adorned with gold;

The poor

con­tent with gods of coars­er mold

With tools of ir­on carve the sense­less stock

Lopped from a tree

or brok­en from a rock;

People and priest drive on the so­lemn trade

And trust the gods that saws and ham­mers made.

Be Heav’n and earth am­azed! ’Tis hard to say

Which is more stu­pid

sense­less gods or they?

O Israel

trust the Lord; He hears and sees

He knows thy sor­rows and re­stores thy peace;

His wor­ship does a thou­sand com­forts yield

He is thy help

and He thy heav’n­ly shield.

O Bri­tain

trust the Lord: thy foes in vain

Attempt thy ru­in

and op­pose His reign;

Had they pre­vailed

dark­ness had closed our days

And death and si­lence had for­bid His praise:

But we are saved

and live; let songs arise

And Bri­tain bless the God that built the skies.