That Christ all glory shall obtain;
That He who once a sufferer bled
Shall o'er the world a conqueror reign.
2 We wait Thy triumph, Saviour-King ;
Long ages have prepared Thy way ;
Now all abroad Thy banners fling,
Set time's great battle in array.
3 Thy hosts are mustered to the field ;
The Cross ! the Cross ! the battle-call :
The old grim towers of darkness yield,
And soon shall totter to their fall.
4 On mountain-tops the watch-fires glow,
Where scattered wide the watchmen stand ;
Voice echoes voice, and onward flow
The joyous shouts from land to land.
5 Oh, fill the Church with faith and power !
Bid her long night of weeping cease ;
To groaning nations haste the hour
Of life and freedom, light and peace.