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Isaac Watts - Psalm 124
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A song for the fifth of November.

Had not the Lord, may Isr`el say,
Had not the Lord maintained our side,
When men, to make our lives a prey,
Rose like the swelling of the tide;

The swelling tide had stopped our breath,
So fiercely did the waters roll,
We had been swallowed deep in death;
Proud waters had o`erwhelmed our soul.

We leap for joy, we shout and sing,
Who just escaped the fatal stroke;
So flies the bird with cheerful wing,
When once the fowler`s snare is broke.

For ever blessed be the Lord,
Who broke the fowler`s cursed snare,
Who saved us from the murd`ring sword,
And made our lives and souls his care.

Our help is in Jehovah`s name,
Who formed the earth and built the skies:
He that upholds that wondrous frame
Guards his own church with watchful eyes.
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