Belgiums Triumph by E. A. Woodward Lyrics

Those cruel hordes with boastful pomp and pride,
To please a tyrant's greed and lust for power,
Would drench in blood a land that will not cower,
And bathe fair Belgium in war's crimson tide.
The rights of peaceful powers have been denied,
Nor woman's prayers nor childhood's tears this hour
Could stay the hand that would their homes devour,
And o'er their bleeding forms in triumph ride.
Faith's prayers ascend, hope's voice to God appeals,
That love might win against a tyrant's might,
And heal the wounds this dreadful strife reveals,
And honor Belgium's stand for peace and right.
Time will record in blood an empire's shame,
While Belgium's triumph is an honored name.