O Lord of hosts, Who didst
upraise
Strong captains to defend the
right,
In darker years and sterner
days,
And armèdst Israel for the
fight;
Thou madest Joshua true and
strong,
And David framed the battle
song.
And we must we battle
yet? Must we,
Who bear the tender Name
divine,
Still barter life for victory,
Still glory in the crimson
sign?
The Crucified between us
stands,
And lifts on high His wounded
hands.
Lord, we are weak and
willful yet,
The fault is in our clouded
eyes;
But Thou, through anguish and
regret,
Dost make Thy faithless
children wise;
Through wrong, through hate,
Thou dost approve
The far off victories of love.
And so, from out the heart
of strife,
Diviner echoes peal and thrill,
The scorned delights, the
lavished life,
The pain that serves a nation’s
will:
Thy comfort stills the
mourner’s cries,
And love is crowned by
sacrifice.
As rains that weep the
clouds away,
As winds that leave a calm in
heaven,
So let the slayer cease to
slay;
The passion healed, the wrath
forgiven,
Draw nearer, bid the tumult
cease,
Redeemer, Savior, Prince of
Peace!
