When Israel stood dripping on the far shore of the Yam Suph, the Sea of Reeds, they sang of a hand. Not a sword, not an army, not even an angel. A hand. Targum Pseudo-Jonathan (an expansive Aramaic paraphrase of the Torah, compiled over centuries and associated with the rabbinic school of the land of Israel) renders the verse this way: Thy right hand, O Lord, how glorious is it in power. Thy right hand, O Lord, hath cut off the adversaries of Thy people who rose against them to do them hurt.
Notice the doubling. Twice the right hand. The Maggid hears in this repetition a deliberate teaching: once for the power, and once for the purpose. Power without purpose is terror. Purpose without power is pity. But a right hand that is both glorious and directed against those who rose up to harm the innocent, that is what Israel discovered at the sea.
The Aramaic phrase qeta' ba'aley debabeihon ("cut off their adversaries") is not a poetic flourish. The Targum imagines the right hand of God working like a harvest sickle, cutting the enemies at the root. Pharaoh's chariots had been the terror of the ancient Near East. One hand, unseen, severed them from their riders.
The takeaway that the Maggid leaves in your pocket: when you find yourself singing of deliverance, sing twice. Once for what was done, and once for why it was done. The hand that saved you had a reason.