Soldier ask not, now or ever
where to war thy banners go
Anarch's legions all surround us
Strike, and do not count the blow

Glory, honor, praise, and profit
Are but toys of tinsel worth
Render up thy work unasking
Leave thy human clay to earth.

Blood and sorrow, pain unending
are the portion of us all.
Grasp the naked sword opposing
gladly in the battle fall.

So shall we, anointed soldiers
Stand at last before the throne.
Baptized in our wounds red-flowing
Sealed unto our lord -- alone!