ARM of the Lord, awake, awake! Thy power unconquerable take; Thy strength put on, assert Thy right, And triumph in the present fight.
Why dost Thou tarry, mighty Lord? Why slumbers in its sheath Thy sword? Arise, Lord, for Thine honour’s sake; Arm of the Lord, awake, awake!
Behold what numbers still withstand Thy sovereign rule and just command, Reject Thy grace, Thy threats despise, And hurl defiance at the skies.
O come, but come not to destroy; Mercy is Thine—Thy crown, Thy joy! Their hatred quell, their pride remove, Come, melt with grace, subdue with love.
Why dost Thou from the conquest stay? Why dost Thy saving power delay? O how we plead—hell’s kingdom shake, Arm of the Lord, awake! awake!
Henry March, 1791-1869