Far down the ages now,

Much of her journey done,

The pilgrim church pursues her way,

Until her crown be won.

2 The story of the past

Comes up before her view:

How well it seems to suit her still—

Old, and yet ever new!

3 It is the oft-told tale

Of sin and weariness—

Of grace and love yet flowing down

To pardon and to bless.

4 No wider is the gate,

No broader is the way,

No smoother is the ancient path,

That leads to life and day.

5 No sweeter is the cup,

Nor less our lot of ill:

’Twas tribulation ages since,

’Tis tribulation still.

6 No slacker grows the fight,

No feebler is the foe,

Nor less the need of armor tried,

Of shield, and spear, and bow.

7 Thus onward still we press,

Through evil and through good—

Through pain, and poverty, and want,

Through peril and through blood.

8 Still faithful to our God,

And to our Captain true,

We follow where he leads the way,

The kingdom in our view.