God, to Thee we hum­bly bow,
Hand un­armed and nak­ed brow;
Musket, lance, and sheath­èd sword
At Thy feet we lay, O Lord!
Gone is all the sol­dier’s boast
In the va­lor of the host:
Kneeling here, we do our most.

Of our­selves we no­thing know:
Thou and Thou alone canst show,
By the fa­vor of Thy hand,
Who hast drawn the guil­ty brand.
If our foe­men have the right,
Show Thy judg­ments in our sight,
Through the for­tunes of the fight!

If our cause be pure and just,
Nerve our cour­age with Thy trust:
Scatter, in Thy bit­ter wrath,
All who cross the na­tion’s path:
May the baf­fled trai­tors fly,
As the va­pors from the sky
When Thy rag­ing winds are high!

God of mer­cy, some must fall
In Thy ho­ly cause. Not all
Hope to sing the vic­tor’s lay,
When the sword is laid away.
Brief will be the pray­ers then said;
Falling at Thy al­tar dead,
Take the sac­ri­fice instead!

Now, O God, once more we rise,
Marching on be­neath Thy eyes;
And we draw the sac­red sword
In Thy name and at Thy word.
May our spir­its clear­ly see
Thee, through all that is to be,
In de­feat or vic­to­ry!