In the great and glorious strifeYou've a high and holy mission
On the battle field of life.
See oppression's feet of iron
Grind a brother to the ground,And from bleeding heart and bosm,
Gapeth many a fearful wound.
Sit not down with idle pity.
Gazing on his mighty wrong;Hurl the bloated tyrant from him—
Say my brother, oh, be strong!
See that sad, despairing mother
Clasp her burning brow in pain;Lay your hand upon her fetters—
Rend, oh! rend her galling chain!
Brutal arms around her thrown;Christian father, save, oh! save her,
By the love you bear your own!
New-born babes on Moloch's shrine;Crush these gory, recking altars—
Christians, let this work be thine.
Weary lives go out in pain,Dragging to death's shadowy portals,
Slavery's heavy galling chain,
Every faith, and sect, and creed,Lay aside your idle jangling.
Come and staunch the wounds that bleed.
Mountain weights of sorrow lay;Stop not now to ask the question
Who shall roll the stone away?
That are yours of church and state;Teach them how to war and battle.
'Gainst oppression, wrong, and hate
Oh! be faithful! Oh! be valiant,
Trusting not in human might;Know that in the darkest conflict,
God is on the side of right!