Thou Lord of hosts, whose guid­ing hand
Has brought us here be­fore Thy face,
Our spir­its wait for Thy com­mand,
Our si­lent hearts im­plore Thy peace.

Those spir­its lay their nob­lest pow­ers
As of­fer­ings on Thy ho­ly shrine.
Thine was the strength that nour­ished ours;
The sol­diers of the cross are Thine.

While watch­ing on our arms at night
We saw Thine an­gels around us move.
We heard Thy call, we felt Thy light,
And fol­lowed, trust­ing, to Thy love.

Send us wher­ev­er Thou wilt, O Lord!
Through rug­ged toil and wea­ry­ing fight.
Thy con­quer­ing love shall be our sword,
And faith in Thee our tru­est might.

Send down Thy con­stant aid, we pray.
Be Thy pure an­gels with us still.
Thy truth, be that our firmest stay;
Our on­ly rest, to do Thy will.