On a pebly shore, where forevermore br Gently creeps a music laden wave -- br In the meadows green, which beyond are seen, br Camps a conq'ring army, true and brave. br Shining are the weapons of this martial throng -- br Crimson died their banner, battleworn so long; br But now they cast them down, and each receives a crown, br Whey they chant their never ending song: br br "Our Saviour and our King! br His victories shall ring! br His conquests thro' eternity shall sound! br (And war shall be no) br War (more) shall be no more -- br we have reach'd the shore -- br Safely reach'd our last grand camping ground." br br While thro' lovely dells, grander music swells -- br Richer chords from rarer harps of gold -- br List that soft refrain, that sweet vocal strain, br Wherein now the victors' deeds are told: br How they toil'd in darkness, battling the wrong -- br How, in hours of weakness, Jesus made them strong. br Acknowledg'd as his own he seats them on his throne, br While they join the never ending song.