We come in arms, we stand ten score, Embattled on the Castle green; We grasp our firelocks tight, for war Is threatening, and we see our Queen. And ‘Will the churls last out till we Have duly hardened bones and thews For scouring leagues of swamp and sea Of braggart mobs and corsair crews?’ We ask; we fear not scoff or smile At meek attire of blue and grey, For the proud wrath that thrills our isle Gives faith and force to this array. So great a charm is England’s right, That hearts enlarged together flow, And each man rises up a knight To work the evil-thinker’s woe. And, girt with ancient truth and grace, We do our service and our suit, And each can be, whate’er his race, A Chandos or a Montacute. Thou, Mistress, whom we serve to-day, Bless the real swords that we shall wield, Repeat the call we now obey In sunset lands, on some fair field. Thy flag shall make some Huron rock As dear to us as Windsor’s keep, And arms thy Thames hath nerved shall mock The surgings of th’ Ontarian deep. The stately music of thy Guards, Which times our march beneath thy ken, Shall sound, with spells of sacred bards, From heart to heart, when we are men. And when we bleed on alien earth, We’ll call to mind how cheers of ours Proclaimed a loud uncourtly mirth Amongst thy glowing orange bowers. And if for England’s sake we fall, So be it, so thy cross be won, Fixed by kind hands on silvered pall, And worn in death, for duty done. Ah! thus we fondle Death, the soldier’s mate, Blending his image with the hopes of youth To hallow all; meanwhile the hidden fate Chills not our fancies with the iron truth. Death from afar we call, and Death is here, To choose out him who wears the loftiest mien; And Grief, the cruel lord who knows no peer, Breaks through the shield of love to pierce our Queen. _William Cory._ HOW LXXVIII A NATIONAL HYMN To Thee, our God, we fly For mercy and for grace; O hear our lowly cry, And hide not Thou Thy face! O Lord, stretch forth Thy mighty hand, And guard and bless our Fatherland! Arise, O Lord of Hosts! Be jealous for Thy Name, And drive from out our coasts The sins that put to shame! O Lord, stretch forth Thy mighty hand, And guard and bless our Fatherland! The powers ordained by Thee With heavenly wisdom bless, May they Thy servants be, And rule in righteousness! O Lord, stretch forth Thy mighty hand, And guard and bless our Fatherland! Though vile and worthless, still, Thy people, Lord, are we; And for our God we will None other have but Thee. O Lord, stretch forth Thy mighty hand, And guard and bless our Fatherland! _William Walsham How._ INGRAM LXXIX A NATION’S WEALTH