The call to arms is sound­ing,
The foe­men mus­ter strong;
While saints beneath the al­tar
Are cry­ing, Lord, how long?
The liv­ing and the lov­ing
Christ’s roy­al standard raise,
And march­ing on to con­flict
Shout forth their cap­tain’s praise.

No time for self-in­dul­gence,
For rest­ing by the way;
Repose will come at ev­en,
But toil is for the day;
Work, like the bless­èd Je­sus,
Who from His ear­li­est youth
Would do His Fa­ther’s bu­si­ness
And wit­ness for the truth.

For the one Faith, the true Faith,
The Faith which can­not fail,
For the one Church, the true Church,
’Gainst which no foes pre­vail;
Made one with God in­car­nate,
We in His might must win
The glo­ry of self-con­quest,
Of vic­to­ry ov­er sin.

Behold! up­on Mount Si­on
A glo­ri­ous peo­ple stand,
A crown on ev­ery fore­head,
A palm in ev­ery hand;
Lo! these are they who bold­ly
The name of Christ con­fessed,
And now tri­um­phant praise Him
In Heav’n’s un­rest­ing rest.

O Je­su! who art wait­ing
Thy faith­ful ones to crown,
Vouchsafe to bless our con­flict,
Our lov­ing ser­vice own;
Come in each heart for­ev­er
As king adored to reign,
Till we with saints tri­um­phant
Uplift the vic­tor strain.