Thy Servant will go and fight with this Philistine

Sorrow of saints is sorrow of a day,
Gladness of saints is gladness evermore:
Send on thy hope, send on thy will before
To chant God’s praise along the narrow way.
Stir up His praises if the flesh would sway,
Exalt His praises if the world press sore,
Peal out His praises if black Satan roar
A hundred thousand lies to say them nay.
Devil and Death and Hades, threefold cord
Not quickly broken, front thee to thy face;
Front thou them with a face of tenfold flint
Shout for the battle, David I never stint
Body or breath or blood, but proof in grace
Die for thy Lord, as once for thee thy Lord.