1 Hark, ’tis our heav’nly leader’s voice
From His triumphant seat:
’Midst all the war’s tumultuous noise,
How powerful, and how sweet!

2 "Fight on, My faithful band," He cries,
“Nor fear the mortal blow;
Who first in such a warfare dies
Shall speediest victory know.

3 "I have My days of combat known,
And in the dust was laid,
But thence I mounted to My throne,
And glory crowns My head.

4 "That throne, that glory you shall share;
My hands the crown shall give;
And you the sparkling honors wear,
While God Himself shall live."

5 Lord, ’tis enough; our bosoms glow
With courage, and with love:
Thine hand shall bear Thy soldiers thro’,
And raise their heads above.

6 My soul, while deaths beset me round,
Erects her ardent eyes,
And longs, thro’ some illustrious wound,
To rush and seize the prize.