In chariots of bondage put not your trust,
The horses of Egypt are lame;
With whips their drivers push and thrust,
Tightly hold the rein;
For Pharaoh’s palace make not your bricks
His treasure houses to raise;
Why will you kick against the pricks?
Were you not made for praise?
Bent idols of gold and silver shall fall,
Upon us have come the days
When God, by His Spirit, to worship shall call,
When men shall sing and praise,
When Jerusalem’s glory He shall defend
As a lion that roars o’er her prey,
When all of her idols she brings to an end
And her night is turned into day.
Oh, Holy City, from heaven descended,
Your women no longer shall weep,
For Rachel, alert, has her children defended,
Aroused them from their sleep,
Their swaddling bands aside has cast,
Their milk exchanged for meat;
To man their post they come at last,
They shall not know defeat.