Arise, ye valiant warrior hosts, arise!
Now, in the flush of victory, pierce the skies
With grateful outbursts of exultant praise.
Such as victorious hosts alone can raise,

To the great God of nations, Lord of lords,
Who in your pride of conquests sheathes your swords,
And claims your rapturous homage from afar,
For all the brilliant exploits of the war.

Let the majestic paeans heavenward sent,
Be with united voice of Britain blent;
Like measured thunders the grand anthem swell,
A nation's fervent gratitude to tell.

And yet another strain of prayer outpour
For the lamented victims of the war.
And for our Queen, who now delights to crown
Her brave commanders with deserved renown.

God bless these mighty men of mind and power,
Who led the well-trained hosts in war's dread hour,
Crushing rebellion, bidding rapine cease;
Then, with heroic valour, courting peace.

And as each soul is heavenward winged to raise
To the Creator this grand psalm of praise,
Forget not the crest-fallen hosts, but bear
Their country's troubles to the throne of prayer.

Sons are we all of the same Father wise.
Who rules in sovereign pomp the earth and skies,
Who bids all live in brotherhood divine,
Without distinction of race, creed or clime.

God speed the day when cruel wars shall cease,
And all the wrestling earth shall be at peace,
When liberty's proud flag shall be unfurled,
And justice, not the sword, shall rule the world.