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Our God and soldier we alike adore - Just at the brink of ruin not before - The danger past, read more
Our God and soldier we alike adore - Just at the brink of ruin not before - The danger past, both are alike requited; God is forgotten and the soldier slighted
Each year his mighty armies marched forth in gallant show,
Their enemies were targets, their bullets they were tow.
Each year his mighty armies marched forth in gallant show,
Their enemies were targets, their bullets they were tow.
His breast with wounds unnumber'd riven,
His back to earth, his face to heaven.
His breast with wounds unnumber'd riven,
His back to earth, his face to heaven.
And the king of Israel answered and said, Tell him, Let not him
that girdeth on his harness boast read more
And the king of Israel answered and said, Tell him, Let not him
that girdeth on his harness boast himself as he that putteth it
off.
O little Force that in your agony
Stood fast while England girt her armour on,
Held high read more
O little Force that in your agony
Stood fast while England girt her armour on,
Held high our honour in your wounded hands,
Carried our honour safe with bleeding feet--
We have no glory great enough for you,
The very soul of Britain keeps your day.
A thousand leagues of ocean, a company of kings,
You came across the watching world to show how heroes read more
A thousand leagues of ocean, a company of kings,
You came across the watching world to show how heroes die.
When the splendour of your story
Builds the halo of its glory,
'Twill belt the earth like Saturn's rings
And diadem the sky.
Ay me! what perils do environ
The man that meddles with cold iron!
Ay me! what perils do environ
The man that meddles with cold iron!
For the army is a school in which the miser becomes generous, and
the generous prodigal; miserly soldiers are read more
For the army is a school in which the miser becomes generous, and
the generous prodigal; miserly soldiers are like monsters, but
very rarely seen.
The knight's bones are dust,
And his good sword rust;
His soul is with the saints, I read more
The knight's bones are dust,
And his good sword rust;
His soul is with the saints, I trust.
