"Marchog Jesu!"

Lord, ride on in triumph glorious,
Gird Thy sword upon Thy Thigh!
Earth shall own Thy Might Victorious,
Death and Hell confounded lie.
Yea! before Thine Eye all-seeing,
All Thy foes shall fly aghast;
Nature's self, through all her being,
Tremble at Thy Trampling Past.

Pierce, for Thou alone art able,
Pierce our dungeon with Thy day;
Shatter all the gates of Babel,
Rend her iron bars away!
Till, as billows thunder shoreward,
All the Ransomed Ones ascend,
Into freedom surging forward
Without number, without end.

Who are these whose praises pealing
From beyond the Morning Star
Earthward solemnly are stealing
Down the distance faint and far?
These are they, the Ever Living,
All in glistening garments gone,
Palm in hand, with proud Thanksgiving
Up before the Great White Throne.