What this host? This migh­ty ar­my,
Conquering ev­ery prince of men?
Led by what high king, what cham­pi­on?
Who, once dead, now lives again?

This, the Church, the Bride of Je­sus,
Armor-clad by God’s own hand:
Shield of Faith and Sword of Spir­it—
Shod by Gos­pel, firm to stand!

With the awe­some Truth of Hea­ven,
Christ has gird­ed her around,
So ar­rayed for ev­ery bat­tle,
She shall pull all em­pires down.

Gleaming in the morn­ing sun­light
See sal­va­tion’s hel­met shine!
Trusting to that sure pro­tect­ion,
On she fights, re­newed in mind.

O’er that heart once bound to ev­il,
Lies the mail of right­eous­ness,
No sa­tan­ic ac­cu­sa­tion
Can de­feat such glo­ri­ous dress!

Terrible in strength and va­lor,
Jesus leads His host to war,
His the vic­t’ry, His the con­quest!
He has brok­en down Hell’s door!