Hark, ’Tis Our Heav’nly Leader’s Voice

Hark

’tis our heav’n­ly lead­er’s voice

From His tri­umph­ant seat:

’Midst all the war’s tu­mult­uous noise

How pow­er­ful

and how sweet!

Fight on

My faith­ful band

He cries

“Nor fear the mor­tal blow;

Who first in such a war­fare dies

Shall spee­di­est vic­to­ry know.

“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.

That throne

that glo­ry you shall share;

My hands the crown shall give;

And you the spark­ling hon­ors wear

While God Him­self shall live.

Lord

’tis enough; our bo­soms glow

With cour­age

and with love:

Thine hand shall bear Thy sol­diers thro’

And raise their heads ab­ove.

My soul

while deaths be­set me round

Erects her ar­dent eyes

And longs

thro’ some il­lus­tri­ous wound

To rush and seize the prize.