1 The Son of God goes forth to war,
a kingly crown to gain;
his blood-red banner streams afar:
who follows in his train?
Who best can drink his cup of woe,
triumphant over pain,
who patient bears his cross below,
he follows in his train.

2 The martyr first, whose eagle eye
could pierce beyond the grave,
who saw his Master in the sky,
and called on him to save;
like him, with pardon on his tongue
in midst of mortal pain,
he prayed for them that did the wrong:
who follows in his train?

3 A glorious band, the chosen few
on whom the Spirit came,
twelve valiant saints, their hope they knew,
and mocked the cross and flame:
they met the tyrant's brandished steel,
the lion's gory mane;
they bowed their necks the death to feel:
who follows in their train?

4 A noble army, men and boys,
the matron and the maid,
around the Savior's throne rejoice,
in robes of light arrayed:
they climbed the steep ascent of heav'n
through peril, toil, and pain:
O God, to us may grace be giv'n
to follow in their train.