Down with the flag, the blood-red flag,
Of glory and of pride!
Beneath whose shade unnumbered men
Like slaughtered brutes have died.
Oh! it has waved too long, too long,
And we have loved too well,
Nor deemed that under it have marched
The sable hosts of hell.

Up with the fair, white flag of peace,
And let it blow afar,
Where'er great guns have bellowed doom,
Or howled the dogs of war.
Up with the glorious flag on high,
And let your shouts arise,
For under it are gathering now
The squadrons of the skies.

Down with the blood-red flag of war,
Up with the flag of peace;
For as the rule of might grows less
Love's empire will increase.
Up with the streamer of the skies,
The snow-white flag I sing,
Till, aided by our bright allies,
The Christ, the Christ is King!