| The Doorkeepers of Zion, |
| They do not always stand |
| In helmet and whole armour, |
| With halberds in their hand; |
| But, being sure of Zion, |
| And all her mysteries, |
| They rest awhile in Zion, |
| Sit down and smile in Zion; |
| Ay, even jest in Zion; |
| In Zion, at their ease. |
| |
| The Gatekeepers of Baal, |
| They dare not sit or lean, |
| But fume and fret and posture |
| And foam and curse between; |
| For, being bound to Baal, |
| Whose sacrifice is vain, |
| Their rest is scant with Baal, |
| They glare and pant for Baal, |
| They mouth and rant for Baal; |
| For Baal in their pain. |
| |
| But we will go to Zion, |
| By choice and not through dread, |
| With these our present comrades |
| And those our present dead; |
| And, being free of Zion |
| In both her fellowships, |
|
| Stand up and drink in Zion |
| Whatever cup in Zion |
|