The Lord Supreme

by Elizabeth Bentley

Elizabeth Bentley

O'ER the vast deep, what storms arise,
And mighty billows bound,
In seeming contest with the skies,
Destruction dealing round!
Yet mightier He who rules the storm,
The Lord enthron'd on high;
The winds his wise decrees perform,
He gives the word they fly.
The waves attend his sacred will,
They feel his sov'reign sway;
He speaks the mandate, "Peace, be still,"
The raging seas obey.
And when protracted thunders crash,
With awe astounds the ear,
His hand conducts the vivid flash,
To punish or to spare.
When clanging spears in myriads gleam,
And hosts with hosts engage,
With sov'reign voice the Lord Supreme
O'errules the battle's rage.
His will directs in fiercest fight,
The sword on whom to fall;
On whose devoted head to light,
He guides the glowing ball.
When round thee thousands strew'd the field,
'Twas his all-potent arm,
Which proved, O WELLINGTON! thy shield,
And saved thy life from harm.
A tyrant dared our bands defy,
In vaunted numbers strong;
The God of Armies bade him fly,
And wide dispers'd his throng.
It is the Lord supreme in might,
Who routs our foes with shame,
With conquest crowns us in the fight;
Give glory to his name.

Last updated January 14, 2019