From The Christian Science Hymnal, 1938 edition
Be firm, ye sentinels of Truth,
God’s day of rest is near;
All scowling shapes of darkness flee;
The morning star shines clear.
Your constant challenge, Who goes there?
As idle words must cease.
How can the prince of this world now
Delay the Prince of Peace?
With healing in his wings he comes,
God’s messenger of love,
‘Tis yours to sound the trumpet call,
His Science yours to prove.