Marching

Let us march, steady and slow,

As ever onward, we must go;

Singing with voices, loud and strong,

No sad hearts, in this happy throng.

Oh! how pleasant 'tis to be

Thus from care, and borrow free;

As hand in hand, we onward move,

In this, our army, whose strength is love.

Each little face is happy and bright,

Each little heart is joyous and light;

Each little voice, loud and strong,

Echo sends back, as we move along.