Let our choir new an­thems raise,
Wake the morn with glad­ness;
God Him­self to joy and praise
Turns the mar­tyrs’ sad­ness:
Bright the day that won their crown,
Op­ened heav’ns bright por­tal,
As they laid the mor­tal down
And put on th’im­mor­tal.

Never flinched they from the flame,
From the tor­ture ne­ver;
Vain the foe­man’s sharp­est aim,
Sa­tan’s best en­dea­vor:
For by faith they saw the land
Decked in all its glo­ry,
Where tri­um­phant now they stand
With the vic­tor’s sto­ry.

Faith they had that knew not shame,
Love that could not lang­uish;
And eter­nal hope o’er­came
Momentary ang­uish.
Up and fol­low, Chris­tian men!
Press through toil and sor­row;
Spurn the night of fear, and then,
O the glo­ri­ous mor­row!