1 Down the busy street come the marching feet
Of the soldiers on their way,
And the music hums from their rolling drums
As they pass to meet the fray;
All the city’s pride, all the splendid tide
Of its riches and its power
Cannot hold their ear while the music clear
Calls them forth to battle’s hour.

2 Through the busy world, with their flags unfurled
March the soldiers of the Right;
Through the din of things still their music rings,
Calling onward to the fight;
Here are wealth and power, here is pleasure’s hour,
Dot the brave ranks falter? Nay!
Forward, row on row, still the warriors go;
May our great Lord speed their way!