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Mightiest! unto Thee he turned, When the noon-day fiercest burned; When the fountain springs were far, And the sounds of Arab war Swelled upon the sultry blast, And the sandy columns past, Unto Thee he cried! and Thou, Merciful! didst hear his vow! Therefore unto Thee again Joy shall sing, Many a sweet and thankful strain, God our King!

Thou wert with him on the main, And the snowy mountain chain, And the rivers, dark and wide, Which through Indian forests glide, Thou didst guard him from the wrath Of the lion in his path, And the arrows on the breeze, And the dropping poison-trees: