Arise, ye mourning saints, arise
1
Arise, ye mourning saints, arise!The Lord our Leader is;The foe before his banner flies,And victory is his.
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We follow thee, our Guard and Guide,Our Saviour, and our King;We follow thee, through grace suppliedFrom heaven's eternal spring.
3
We soon shall see the promised dayWhen all our toils shall cease;When we shall cast our arms away,And dwell in endless peace.
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This blessed hope supports us here;It makes our burdens light;'T will serve our drooping hearts to cheer,Till faith shall end in sight:
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Till, of the glorious prize possessed,We hear of war no more;And ever with our Leader rest,On yonder peaceful shore.