Where gladness fills each heart, And honour crowns each brow;-- For tireless service fit me, Lord, By willing service now.
Let no depressing thought My brooding mind depress; But let me hear, in winning tones, What they who serve possess,
Let sunshine flood the soul, When threatening night descends, That I may see the light serene No sunset ever ends.
Let strength my spirit nerve, That, with each labour done, I may, like those who serve above, See some new task begun;
The time is drawing near,-- Till that bright morning break, May I, with those who see Thy face, Thy will, my pleasure make:
I will not yield my sword, I will not bow the knee, But I would hear the blessed word That calls my soul to Thee; And through the din of war, And in the midst of strife, That word shall be the guiding star To lead me on to life.
And in the midst of snares Which subtle fingers lay, I shall not stumble unawares Upon the upward way; But keep before my eyes The goal before me set, Lest I should miss the glorious prize Which loyal victors get.
O Christ, Who art my King, Thy cause I make mine own, Till proud rebellious foes shall bring Their homage to Thy throne; Till then my heart revive With courage brave and strong, And steel my feeble arm to strive Against the power of wrong.
When from the fateful field I hail my rightful King, To Him my trusty sword I'll yield, And all my trophies bring; And He shall crown my head With honours richer far Than trophies from the conquered dead, And all the spoils of war.
If in the cause of right I must, Do battle with the sword, Then, let me follow Him I trust, My chosen King and Lord.
As Captain in the mortal fight, He knows the foe I fear; His presence fires my soul with might, And fills my heart with cheer.
If I should see Him ever near, When blows unceasing fall, I shall no flaunting banner fear, Nor loudest battle call.
And in the thickest of the strife, No polished shaft I'll dread, For He preserves my soul in life, In battle shields my head.
No power shall in the fight prevail, No subtle gin ensnare, Though all the hosts of hell assail, And guile the fraud prepare.
Lord, gird me with Thy armour bright, And lead me forth to win, For I would battle for the right Against the might of sin.