1 Come, look here, ye sons of sci­ence,
Look upon the dy­ing man;
On the cross is his re­li­ance:
Faith does more than rea­son can.
Read his tri­umph in his eyes:
Thus it is the Christ­ian dies.

2 Boast no more, ye sons of sci­ence:
Death was nev­er foiled by you;
To your arms he bids de­fi­ance:
Safe from all that you can do:
Death comes smil­ing, when he sees,
Arms against him such as these.

3 David once, by wis­dom guid­ed,
Threw such arms as yours away:
And with oth­er arms pro­vid­ed,
Sought the foe and won the day.
His no sword, nor spear, nor bow:
Yet he laid the migh­ty low.

4 Israel’s God the youth di­rect­ed
How to aim the dead­ly blow:
And with arms by Him se­lect­ed,
David fought and slew the foe:
Israel’s God is still the same:
Saving those who know His name.

5 Happy they, who still con­fid­ing
In the strength of Is­ra­el’s God,
And with arms of His pro­vid­ing,
Meet the haugh­ty foe un­awed.
Though the con­flict prove se­vere:
They pre­vail, for God is near.