My heart rejoices in the Lord
My horn is lifted high in Him
My mouth is wide and open o’er
My enemies who hear our hymns
There is none holy as the Lord
No, there is none, save Him alone
No strength like His with one accord
Can sit with Him on Heaven’s throne
So, shut your mouths, you proud peacock
Let old things from your mouth depart
For God turns over every rock
And judges every human heart
The bows of strong men have been snapped
The weak, meanwhile, with strength are strapped
The bloated, boastful fattened calves
Have become fodder for the shrewd
The hungry, humble not by halves
Are feasting with God and His food
The babies of the barren born
In number rival sevenfold
The children of the boastful mourn
Their mother, feeble, to behold
The wicked wasted by the Lord
The humble quickened by His hand;
The haughty hewn down by His sword
The lowly fetched up, raised again
The Lord, He gives and takes away
Brings low, and heeds up, come what may
God raises up the poor from dust
He lifts the beggar from deep dung
He sets them with the upper crust
As to inherit them a throne
The pillars of the earth are God’s
On them He spins the world around
He keeps the feet of saints on sod
But purges sinners from the ground
For no man, by his might, is strong
And no man can the Lord withstand
The fear of God is Heaven’s song
As thunder shakes and shapes the land
The Lord shall judge the ends of earth
His King exalted proves it worth
— Hannah's Song
Postmillitant original rendering
*** based on Tyndale's translation of 1 Samuel 2:1-10
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