Onward, on­ward, men of Hea­ven!
Bear the Gos­pel’s ban­ner high;
Rest not, till its light is giv­en,
Star of ev­ery pa­gan sky,
Send it where the pil­grim stran­ger
Faints be­neath the tor­rid ray;
Bid the red browed fo­rest rang­er
Hail it, ere he fades away.

Where the Arc­tic ocean thun­ders,
Where the tro­pics fierce­ly glow,
Broadly spread its page of won­ders,
Brightly bid its ra­di­ance flow.
India marks its lus­ter steal­ing;
Shivering Green­land loves its rays;
Afric, ’mid her de­serts kneel­ing,
Lifts the un­taught strain of praise.

Rude in speech, or grim in fea­ture,
Dark in spi­rit, though they be,
Show that light to ev­ery crea­ture—
Prince or vas­sal, bond or free.
Lo! they haste to ev­ery na­tion,
Host on host the ranks sup­ply;
Onward! Christ is your sal­va­tion
And your death is vic­to­ry.