Onward, onward, men of heaven
Bear the gospel's banner high;
Rest not, till its light is given,
Star of every pagan sky:
Send it where the pilgrim stranger
Paints beneath the torrid ray;
Bid the red-browed forest-ranger
Hail it, ere he fades away.

2 Rude in speech, or grim in feature,
Dark in spirit, though they be,
Show that light to every creature --
Prince or vassal, bond or free:
Lo! they haste to every nation:
Host on host the ranks supply:
Onward! Christ is your salvation,
And your death is victory.

Mrs. Lydia H. Sigourney.