Verse 1
Jesu, the growing work is thine,
And who shall hinder its success?
In vain the alien armies join,
Thy glorious gospel to suppress,
And vow, with Satan’s aid, t’ o’erthrow
The work thy grace revives below.

Verse 2
The wary world, as Julian wise,
Wise with the wisdom from beneath,
A while its milder malice tries,
And lets these mad enthusiasts breathe,
Breathe to infect their purest air,
And spread the plague of virtue there.

Verse 3
Wondring the calm despisers stand,
And dream that they the respite give,
Restrain’d by thine o’er-ruling hand,
They kindly suffer us to live,
Live, to defy their master’s frown,
And turn his kingdom up-side down.

Verse 4
Still the old dragon bites his chain,
Not yet commission’d from on high,
Rage the fierce Pharisees in vain,
Away with them the zealots cry,
And hoary Caiaphas exclaims,
And Bonner dooms us to the flames.

Verse 5
But our great God, who reigns on high,
Shall laugh their haughty rage to scorn,
Scatter their evil with his eye,
Or to his praise their fierceness turn;
While all their efforts to remove
His church, shall stablish her in love.

Verse 6
Yes, Lord, thy promise-word is true,
Our sacred hairs are number’d all,
Tho’ earth, and hell our lives pursue,
Without thy leave we cannot fall:
And if thou slack the murtherer’s chain,
We suffer but with thee to reign.

Verse 7
Our sufferings shall advance thy cause,
And blunt the persecutor’s sword,
Dispread the victory of thy cross,
And glorify our conqu’ring Lord;
Evil shall work for Sion’s good:
Its seed is still the martyr’s blood.