Whose Pow'r, that for his Rule made way,
His Conquests ever will maintain.
We give thee thanks, Almighty Lord,
Which art, and wast, and art to come;
Who hast exerted thy great Pow'r,
And for thy Victories made room.
Let th'angry Nations rage; thy wrath blood
Is come; and it's thy time to rain
Down Judgments, and t'avenge the
Of Martyrs barbarously slain.
And now thy suffe'ring Servants, Lord,
Great Saints and Prophets thou'lt re∣gard;
And all that fear thy Name, tho' here
Despis'd shall have a great reward.
All thy just vengeance will applaud
On them, who all their Pow'r imploy'd,
To turn the Earth t' a Field of Blood;
Their turn now comes to be destroy'd.
Salvation to the Saints is come;
God's strength and mighty aids appear,
T' advance his Kingdom among Men,
Who all the Pow'r of Christ revere.
He that before the Lord accus'd
The Brethren with false Calumnies,
Is now cast head-long down, and none
Give credit longer to his Lyes.
He's conquer'd by the Blood of Christ,
And by their witness to his word:
start from here tomorrow