Soldier, and car, and courser from his path,
O’erwhelmed in wild confusion:—at the sight
His foemen shrink—nor dare to meet his wrath,
But trembling fly,
For God’s own lightning flashes from his eye.
Ye sons of Ammon! where is now your boast?
Ye that could once insult, defy, disdain
Israel’s despised host?
Lo! your pale corpses cumber all the plain!
Your living men remain