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 heaven through peril, toil, and pain: O God, to us may grace be given to follow in their train.