A heritage no man can sell,
a history no man can tell;
so much we share in Jesus' band,
nothing to fear, in storms we stand.
To lordly things we are kindred,
mansions of gold, pure and sacred;
to endless beam, to saintly streams,
to heaven's gaze and holy hymns.
Our dreams are shaped eternaly
by faith and love in God's alley;
no baser thought our spirit fills,
as we approach heavenly hills.
We who are born of Christ Jesus,
Hallelujah is our chorus;
pilgrims we are, on earth we roam,
yet pressing on to our glorious home.