Backward Christian soldiers, Fleeing from the fight,
With the cross of Jesus, Nearly out of sight.
Christ our rightful master, Stands against the foe;
Onward into battle, we seem afraid to go.

Like a might tortoise, Moves the church of God.
Brothers we are treading, Where we’ve often trod.
We are much divided, Many bodies we,
Having different doctrines, but not much charity.

Crowns and thrones may perish, Kingdoms rise and wane,
But the cross of Jesus Hidden does remain.
Gates of hell should never ‘gainst the Church prevail,
We have Christ’s own promise, but we think it might fail.

Sit here then ye people, Join our sleeping throng.
Blend with ours, your voices in a feeble song.
Blessings, ease and comfort Ask from Christ the King,
But with our modern thinking, We won’t do a thing.

Chorus:
Backward Christian soldiers, Fleeing from the fight,
With the cross of Jesus, Nearly out of sight.

Anonymous