The Great War

from More Songs By the Fighting Men, an electronic edition

A Soldier's Litany

WHEN the foemen's hosts draw nigh.

When the standards wave on high.

When the brazen trumpets call.

Some to triumph, some to fall,

Lord of Hosts, we cry to Thee,

Libera nos Domine!

When the opposing squadrons meet.

When the bullets fall like sleet.

When the vanguards forward dash.

When the flames of cannon flash,"

Lord of Hosts, we cry to Thee,

Libera nos Domine!

When mingled in the awful rout,

Vanquished's cries and victor's shout,

Horses' screams and wounded's groan,

Dying, comfortless, alone,

Lord of Hosts, we cry to Thee,

Libera nos Domine!

And when night's shadows round us close,

God of Battles, succour those.

Those whose hearts shall ever burn

For loved ones, never to return;

Lord of Hosts, we cry to Thee,

Libera nos Domine!

(Save us. Lord.)