We march on in hope, and we march toward the prize.
We press on in the narrow way to glory up on high.
We fight, and we hope, and we laugh and feast,
The victr'y march of the Church of Christ all hell cannot defeat.
Our mission for the earth, our mission giv'n of Christ,
Is go to evr'y heathen land proclaiming that He died,
Yet now again He lives to reign.
To win the world back to Himself we baptize in His name.
All Satan and his hosts, all hell and its fire
Do line themselves against the Church as she marches thus inspired
Yet the promise of our Lord is they won't prevail
For He is with us to the end, so all His foes must fail.
The kings of the earth, against the Lord now plot.
They tear down our memorial stones in hopes to see us rot,
But Christ is the stone on which all the Temple rests,
So all our hope is safe above in heav'n where He is set.
Their altar they have made to sacrifice our young
With poisoned steel their blade is aimed into their hearts to plunge,
Yet we will not give the heritage away,
For we will guard our children's hearts against the sinners' way.
Come see all the lands of earth now fight in war.
What hope of peace now has the world, so bloodied, ravaged, torn?
And who will proclaim the word of peace,
That all the tribes be reconciled to live in Christ as free.
See here on the street, poor sinners line the way.
Their hungry souls, afflicted much, in broken pity lay.
Now what is their hope, their balm of life,
If not the Christian's healing word of Jesus' sacrifice?
Though many be our foes and sharpened be the sword
That glids the necks of valient men who shout redemption's word
And many be the cries of souls oppressed,
Yet still advancing is the word that brings to all men rest.
Though great be our toil, yet greater still our prize.
Through hunger, suffering, flame, and loss, Christ wins His purchased Bride.