Hymn XXXVI. For a Souldier.
[_]
The Souldier being taught by this Hymn, to nourish
in his heart, the contempt of Bodily perils is withall
instructed, or put in minde to be carefull to avoyd
the sins usually defiling that profession; to
consider the duties of his Calling, and take God
for his Leader and Defence.
[1]
Now, in my self, I notice take,
What life we Souldiers lead,
My haire stands up, my heart doth ake,
My Soul is full of Dread;
And, to declare
This horrid fear,
Throughout my bones, I feel
A shiv'ring cold,
On me lay hold,
And, run from head, to heel.
2
It is not losse of limbes or breath,
Which hath me so dismay'd.
Nor mortall wounds, nor grones of Death,
Have made me thus afray'd.
When Cannons rore,
I start no more,
Then mountains, from their place,
Nor feel I fears,
Though swords and spears,
Are darted at my face.
3
A Souldier it would ill become,
Such common things to feare:
The shouts of war, the thundring drum,
His Courage up doth cheere.
Though dust and smoke,
His passage choke,
He boldly marcheth on,
And thinketh scorn,
His back to turn,
Till all be lost or won.
4
The flashing Fires, the whizzing shot,
Distemper not his wits:
The barbed Steed, he dreadeth not,
Nor him, who thereon sits.
But, through the field,
With sword and shield,
He cutteth forth his way,
And, through a flood,
Of reaking blood,
Wades on, without dismay.
5
That, whereupon, the dread begins,
Which, thus appaleth me,
Is that huge troop of crying-sins,
Which rife in Souldiers be.
The wicked minde,
Wherewith I finde,
Into the field they go;
More terror hath,
Then all the wrath,
And Engines of the Foe.
6
The Rapes, the Spoiles, and Acts unjust,
Which are in Souldiers rife,
Their damned Oathes, their brutish lust,
Their cursed course of life,
More dreadfull are,
When death draws neer,
Then Death it self can be;
And, he that knows
The fear of those,
The mouth of Hell, doth see.
7
Defend me Lord, from those misdeeds,
Which my profession shame;
And, from the veng'ance that succeeeds,
When we are so to blame.
Preserve me far,
From Acts of War;
Where, thou dost peace command;
And, in my brest,
Let mercy rest,
Though Justice use my hand.
8
Those, let me willingly obay,
Who my commanders be.
Both with my Place, and with my pay,
Contented make thou me:
And, when I go,
To meet my Foe,
Let no beloved Sin,
In me be found,
To make a wound,
Without me, or within.
9
Let me no help to those afford,
That have a wicked cause;
Nor take up Armes, but, where her sword
Impartiall Justice draws.
Yet, as a blot,
Impute thou not,
The wast of humane blood;
Shed by my hands,
At their commands,
Who must not be withstood.
10
Be thou my Leader to the Field;
My head, in battell arme.
Be thou a brestplate, and a shield,
To keep my Soul from harme:
For, live or dye,
I will relye
On thee, oh Lord, alone.
And in this trust,
(Though fall I must)
I, cannot be undone.