1 Tell me why, O Christian soldier,
Thou art lying in the dust?
With thine armor and thy garments
Rolled in mildew and in rust?
Is the fallen angel waiting,
Near at hand to clutch thy throat,
Like a lion, when his victim
Is assured, with growl and gloat?
2 Fear thou not! He cannot touch thee,
By thy side is One in white,
Mightier than ten thousand demons;
He can put the foe to flight.
LEAVE THINE HAND IN HIS, O Christian,
None can snatch from out His hand;
All the hosts of hell are powerless
At a look, or one command.
3 Then arise! arise! O soldier,
Shout for joy!
Shake off thy dust!
Change thy galling coat of sackcloth
For the garb of praise and trust!
Gird thine armor on, and hasten!
Join thy comrades in the fray!
Not a foeman can stand before Thee;
Only watch, and fight, and pray!