The locusts have no king,
Yet go they forth a band
Of mighty warriors,
To march at God’s command
Against the stubborn Pharaoh,
And darken Egypt’s land.
They ride upon the wind,
Their chariots o’er the plain
Of wild Arabia.
The farmer’s toil is vain,
They eat the fruit and herb,
And strip the fields of grain.
Jehovah’s hand unseen
Doeth lead the mighty host,
The monarch trembles when
They cover Egypt’s coast;
Yet death alone shall break
His pride and stop his boast.
So Christ, the conquering King
Shall all His foes defeat;
His gathered saints caught up
Their blessed Lord to meet;
Shall come with Him to tread
His foes beneath their feet.