THE LORD OF HOSTS.

By JOSEPH B. GILDER.

"He that sitteth in the heavens shall laugh."

The warring hosts that gather To ravage, burn, and slay, Turn first to that dread Father To whom the nations pray: "O God, our hearts Thou knowest, Our minds Thou readest clear; Where we go, there Thou goest— With Thee we have no fear. "The folk that harm and hate us— Thy enemies, O Lord— Thou knowest how they bait us: Make brittle their strong sword! "Against the foe that goaded We heed Thy call to fight: Our guns are primed and loaded, Our swords, how keen and bright! "Make strong our hearts to serve Thee, Uphold our lifted hands; Let no petition swerve Thee To succor alien bands. "So shall we burn and slaughter, Spread desolation wide, If still, by land and water, Thou fightest on our side." The Lord of Hosts had listened— Had heard the rivals' prayer, Upraised where bayonets glistened And banners dyed the air; And as His people waited An answer to their cry, Two bolts with lightning freighted Flashed from the angry sky. To left, to right they darted, Impartially they fell: The hosts in terror started As they envisaged hell. For wide their ranks were riven, Night blotted out the sky, As prostrate, dazed or driven, They caught their God's reply. Then, as the blinding levin's Twin bolts were buried deep, Who dwelleth in the heavens Was heard to laugh—and weep!