For the Army

How, O Thou sovereign Tord of Hosts,
Can we Thy slighted aid engage,
Who vainly swell with impious boasts.
Who war with our Creator wage,
But scorn beneath Thy stroke to mourn.
But will not to our Smiter turn?

Thou canst not trust us with success.
So proud, so contrary to Thee,
So sunk in vice and wickedness;
Despisers of the Deity,
Our righteous recompence we find
Despised ourselves by all mankind.

Yet still Thy lingering pity spares
An army for destruction meet,
A bundle of devoted tares —
But mingled with the sacred wheat,
The praying few, that know Thy name,
And keep the tares out of the flame.

Still may the righteous ten prevail,
And screen the wicked from their doom:
Jesus, suspend Thy fiery hail.
Nor let Thine utmost judgment come,
The punishment our crimes require,
The vengeance of eternal fire.

Yet if Thou must Thy foes chastise,
And sweep them off to their own place,
By whom Thou wilt let Jacob rise,
The remnant small, the sons of grace:
Give the success. Almighty Lord,
To Gideon's men, and Gideon's sword.

Bring back those wondrous days of old,
When Thou didst for Thy people fight.
And faithful men, divinely bold,
Put all the Pagan hosts to flight,
With heavenly panoply endued.
The armies of the living God.

Muster Thy host, great God of war.
Thy host of holy ones below,
Put forth Thy strength, Thine arm make bare.
Forth with the Thundering Legion go.
Beneath Thy bloody banner join,
And bid them " Conquer in this sign!"

Then at Thy reconciling word
Throughout the earth let fightings cease,
Be Thou extoU'd, the common Lord,
The Prince of universal peace,
With glorious majesty appear.
And fix Thy heavenly kingdom here.