Ye ser­vants of our glo­ri­ous king,
To Him your thank­ful prais­es bring;
And tell the deeds that grace has done,
The tri­umphs by His mar­tyrs won.

Since they were faith­ful to the last,
Their holy strug­gles now are past;
The bit­ter­ness of death is o’er,
And theirs is bliss for­ev­er­more.

The flame might scorch, the knife lay bare,
And cru­el beasts their mem­bers tear;
No pow­ers of earth, no pow­ers of hell
The souls that loved their Lord could quell.

Forever brok­en is the chain
That sought to bind them, but in vain;
O let us strive like them to win
Our free­dom from the bonds of sin.

O Sav­ior, may our por­tion be
With those who gave them­selves to Thee,
Through all eter­ni­ty to sing
All praise to Thee, the mar­tyrs’ king.