1 On a pebbly shore, where, forever more,
Gently creeps a music laden wave,
In the meadows green, which beyond are seen,
Camps a conq'ring army true and brave;
Shining are the the weapons, of this martial throng,
Crimson dyed their banners, battle worn so long,
But now they cast them down, and each receives a crown,
While they chant their never-ending song.

Chorus:
Our Savior and our King!
His victories shall ring!
His conquests thro' eternity shall sound,
War shall be no more,
We have reach'd the shore,
Safely reach'd our last grand camping ground.

2 While thro' lovely dells, grander music swells,
Richer chords from rarer harps of gold,
List that soft refrain, that sweet vocal strain,
Wherein now the victor's deeds are told;
How they toil'd in darkness, battling with the wrong,
How, in hours of weakness, Jesus made them strong,
Acknowledg'd as his own, he seats them on his throne,
While they join their never-ending song. [Chorus]