Twelve thou­sand stand on Gi­le­ad,
Yea, twice twelve thou­sand say!
They flocked at sil­ver trum­pet’s call,
All men of Is­ra­el they.
But faith­ful Gi­de­on cried aloud,
If cra­ven heart there be,
Return, faint-hearted, to your tents,
Not yours the vic­to­ry!

Ten thou­sand stand at Gi­le­ad!
No cra­ven hearts are these;
But will they speed at du­ty’s call,
Or love they sloth­ful ease?
In wea­ri­ness, in watch­ings oft,
The sol­dier’s lot must stand:
Can these ten thou­sand hard­ness bear,
And march at God’s com­mand?

See! Har­od’s spark­ling waters
Flow flash­ing thro’ the plain!
The Lord will try His war­ri­ors
Again and yet again.
Down to the mar­gin of the stream
The thirst­ing sol­diers press,
Their parch­èd lips ap­proach the stream,
The leap­ing tor­rent kiss.

Some yield to wea­ri­ness and thirst,
And, kneel­ing on the sod,
Forget awhile the trum­pet’s call,
Their coun­try and their God!
Some on­ly bend in man­ly grace
With hand dipped in the ford,
And mar­tial stand, the sword in hand,
To heark­en Gi­de­on’s word.

By these, by these, cried Gi­de­on,
The Lord shall Is­ra­el save;
By prov­en men and chos­en,
Three hun­dred war­ri­ors brave;
Lest Is­ra­el’s host should vaunt it­self,
And dream that its pow­er and might,
Or pru­dence of the wise and skilled,
Had con­quered in the fight.

Three hun­dred stand on Gi­le­ad,
Obedient men—but lo!
More than a hun­dred thou­sand
In Mi­di­an’s tents be­low!
What wea­pons for the war­fare?
A trum­pet and a light!
The shout of a king among them
Ringing thro’ Mi­di­an’s night!

O Lord, arise! Thy war­ri­ors choose,
As erst at Ha­rod’s well,
And prove them at the wa­ters—
Thy faith­ful Is­ra­el!
Swift as the ea­gle may they bear
Love’s em­bas­sy abroad!
Send out Thy sons of va­lor
To war, the wars of God!

They will not pause, those ea­ger souls,
Where plea­sure’s waves glide by,
Nor, heed­less of the Mas­ter’s call,
In ease­ful lang­uor lie.
They hear the call of na­tions,
The Mas­ter’s high com­mand,
And pure re­solve and zeal in­spire
The mis­sion­ary band.

O flash the torch of truth athwart
The gloom of hea­then night!
And cheer ye with a song of faith,
And trum­pet sound of might!
The bat­tle is not yours, but God’s;
Ring out the bat­tle cry!
The sword of God and Gi­de­on
Shall bring the vic­to­ry!