Classic Poem

Church of the living God,
Awake the victor song,
A toilsome path thou long hast trod,
And yet must march along;
Thy Banner to Creation fling,
And take possession for thy King.

Thy field is now the World,
What noble field of strife,
And Satan from his throne is hurled,
If thou but wak'st to life;
Strike home for Jesus and his word,
And give the Kingdoms to thy Lord.

What noble sons were thine,
When dauntless souls like Paul,
The strength of heart and arm combined,
And gave to Christ their all;
Then Islands in the southern sea,
Then northern climes in Christ were free.

Ah, those were days of Faith,
When vengeance marked the good,
And thorns were with the mitre worn,
And Prelates pour'd their blood;
That warm libation, rich and free,
Was shed by giant hearts for Thee.

Give thee but souls like these,
With daring in their eye,
And out upon the distant breeze,
The Banner's folds shall fly;
And mountain-top and heaving sea,
Shall wake unwonted melody.

Church of the living God,
The Earth is grossly dark,
But Bel must bow and Nebo stoop,
Before the Mystic ark:
On to the noble rescue, on,
Sword of the Lord and Gideon.

Church of the living God,
In trustfulness move on,
And spread the seed of Truth abroad,
Till all shall kiss the Son;
Then bursts on Earth a cloudless day,
Then kindles Glory's lasting ray.