| |
| HOT Rupert came spurring to Marston Moor; | |
| Praise we the Lord! | |
| Came spurring hard with thousands a score: | |
| Praise we the Lord! | |
| Beleaguered York, that we lay before, | 5 |
| He knew would be ours ere a week was o’er, | |
| So to scatter our hosts he fiercely swore. | |
| To the Lord our God be glory! | |
| |
| To Newcastle’s succor he swore to come; | |
| Praise we the Lord! | 10 |
| And at morning we heard his march’s hum; | |
| Praise we the Lord! | |
| And with blare of trumpet and roll of drum, | |
| Into York, in their pride, did the scorners come; | |
| But to-night are the cursing lips not dumb? | 15 |
| To the Lord our God be glory! | |
| |
| God gave them to drink of pride, we knew, | |
| Praise we the Lord! | |
| That his saints his wrath on their hosts might do; | |
| Praise we the Lord! | 20 |
| He bade us flee, that they might pursue: | |
| So from trench and leaguer straight off we drew, | |
| But we halted on Marston Moor anew; | |
| To the Lord our God be glory! | |
| |
| There, biding pursuit, stood our long array, | 25 |
| Praise we the Lord! | |
| While slow hours came and passed away; | |
| Praise we the Lord! | |
| “They will not come to the strife to-day,” | |
| We said, and southwards our march then lay, | 30 |
| But the Lord had doomed them that hour our prey; | |
| To the Lord our God be glory! | |
| |
| But Leslie’s regiments had left the ground, | |
| Praise we the Lord! | |
| When the fierce Prince bade his trumpets sound; | 35 |
| Praise we the Lord! | |
| Then was spurring and running and fronts faced round. | |
| Upon us they came, with the burst and sound | |
| Of tempests; but ready his own they found; | |
| To the Lord our God be glory! | 40 |
| |
| Then the shot of their guns through our stilled ranks tore; | |
| Praise we the Lord! | |
| Then a pause and a hush fell on the war; | |
| Praise we the Lord! | |
| Then their squadrons thickened, and down once more | 45 |
| Came Rupert and Hell with a rush and a roar, | |
| More fierce and fell than they came before; | |
| To the Lord our God be glory! | |
| |
| With Leslie and Fairfax the saints were few; | |
| Praise we the Lord! | 50 |
| Not theirs the hearts that our God well knew; | |
| Praise we the Lord! | |
| Vessels uncleansed, what would they do! | |
| The godless had ridden them through and through; | |
| The accurséd slay and slay and pursue; | 55 |
| To the Lord our God be glory! | |
| |
| Not so, O Lord, was it with thine own; | |
| Praise we the Lord! | |
| To us were thy truth and mercy shown; | |
| Praise we the Lord! | 60 |
| Through our closed-up ranks were our trumpets blown; | |
| Then no shout, but a deep psalm rose alone, | |
| And we knew that our God would his might make known. | |
| To his holy name be glory! | |
| |
| And Cromwell, his servant, spoke the word; | 65 |
| Praise we the Lord! | |
| “On! smite for the Lord! spare not!” we heard; | |
| Praise we the Lord! | |
| Hotly our spirits within us stirred; | |
| Reins were loosened and flanks were spurred, | 70 |
| And the heathen went down before God and his word. | |
| To his name alone be the glory! | |
| |
| Lo, the bow of the Lord was strung this day; | |
| Praise we the Lord! | |
| And the arm of our God was strong to slay; | 75 |
| Praise we the Lord! | |
| He gave us the proud ones for a prey; | |
| He chased the mighty from out our way; | |
| He gave us the high ones low to lay. | |
| To the Lord alone be the glory! | 80 |
| |
| Where are ye, ye noble and ye proud? | |
| Praise we the Lord! | |
| Where are ye who cried ’gainst his saints aloud? | |
| Praise we the Lord! | |
| The great of the earth in death are bowed; | 85 |
| They who vaunted their strength his breath has cowed; | |
| Bloody they lie, where the kite screams loud. | |
| To the Lord our God be glory! | |
| |
| Lo, the Lord, our helper, hath heard our cries; | |
| Praise we the Lord! | 90 |
| He hath raised the foolish and shamed the wise; | |
| Praise we the Lord! | |
| In him our rock and our sure hope lies; | |
| To him shall the cry of his servants rise; | |
| Woe to them who his chosen dare despise! | 95 |
| To the Lord our God be glory! | |
| |
| Ho! Baal-priests, did we cry in vain? | |
| Praise we the Lord! | |
| He shall break ye, ye sons of Dagon, again; | |
| Praise we the Lord! | 100 |
| He shall winnow the chaff from the priceless grain; | |
| He shall skim the pot till no dross remain; | |
| And the Lord our God and his saints shall reign! | |
| To the Lord alone be glory! | |
| |
