MARTYRS
Tr. J. M. Neale.
Των ιερων αθλοφορων.
LET our choir new anthems raise,
Wake the morn with gladness;
God himself to joy and praise
Turns the Martyrs' sadness:
This the day that won their crown,
Opened heaven's bright portal,
As they laid the mortal down
And put on the immortal.
2 Never flinched they from the name,
From the torture never;
Vain the foeman’s sharpest aim,
Satan's best endeavour:
For by faith they saw the land
Decked in all its glory,
Where triumphant now they stand
With the victor’s story.
Unison. 3. Up and follow, Christian men!
Press through toil and sorrow;
Spurn the night of fear, and then,
O, the glorious morrow!
Who will venture on the strife?
Who will first begin it?
Who will grasp the land of life?
Warriors, up and win it!
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