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Hark, 'tis a martial sound !
To arms, ye saints, to arms !
Your foes are gathering round,
And peace has lost its charms:
Prepare the helmet, sword, and shield;
The trumpet calls you to the field.
No common foes appear
To dare you to the fight,
But such as own no fear
And glory in their might:
The Powers of Darkness are at hand ;
Resist, or bow to their command.
An arm of flesh must fail
In such a strife as this ;
He only can prevail
Whose arm immortal is :
'Tis Heaven itself the strength must yield,
And weapons fit for such a field.
And Heaven supplies them too :
The Lord, who never faints,
Is greater than the foe,
And He is with His saints :
Thus arm'd, they venture to the fight;
Thus arm'd, they put their foes to flight.
And, when the conflict's past,
On yonder peaceful shore
They shall repose at last,
And see their foes no more ;
The fruits of victory enjoy,
And never more their arms employ.
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marker 99
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LYRICS
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Meter:
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6 6 6 6 8 8
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Writer(s):
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Trans/Adapted:
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Dates:
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1809
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Bible Refs:
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MUSIC
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Name:
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ST. JOHN (PARISH)
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Meter:
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6 6 6 6 8 8
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Writer(s):
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Dates:
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1850
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LIST OF MUSIC SOURCES
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Hymn/Song Book
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Song #
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Key
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| # 164 | C | | # 59 | C | | # 109 | C | | # 217 | C | | # 386 | C | | # 670 | D | | # 313 | D | | # 58 | D | | # 142 | D | | # 45 | D | | # 68 | D | | # 303 | Db | | # 595 | G | | # 354 | D | | # 294 | No key | | # 530 | No key | | # 8 | D |
echo ' | ';
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Hymn Writer
