The call went out through all the earth,
An arrow shot from Zion’s heights,
To every tribe, and caste, and birth,
“Assemble to the flag of Christ!”
Specifically the summons sent,
The call that no man can resist,
So rally now: His bow is bent,
And Christ’s campaign is imminent.
The love He showed for every man,
Like lightening flashing from the cross,
To save the damned as was His plan,
And sanctify our clinging dross.
A host anointed as His sword,
Called holy by His very mouth,
To overrun all pagan swarms,
As would a whirlwind from the south.
And kept in battle from all harm,
Against the darts of Satan’s hordes,
Defended by His mighty arm,
And guarded by our holy Lord.
For He equipped us for this fight,
And never will release His hold,
And trial’s fire He ignites,
To turn out hearts of clay to gold.
So glory, then, will fall on Him,
For in our weakness He is shown,
His power in us slaying sin,
That glory may be His alone.
And in that long expected day,
From every age, will all the saints,
Before His throne in white arrayed,
All raise His banner and His praise.