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!