In dark, filthy places, forsaken, forgotten
Our brothers and sisters are paying a price
They will not deny Him to purchase their freedom 
For these are the faithful, the martyrs for Christ

Twisted and broken abandoned and beaten
Their bodies confined in unseen sacrifice
But deep in their spirits they know perfect freedom
For they are the ones who've been set free by Christ

From under the altar the voices are crying
"How long, Lord, 'til You come judge the earth?" 
But He'll wrap and redeem them in robes of pure white
For the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church
Oh, the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church

Deafening silence, the faithful refusal 
To doubt or deny in the presence of man
They lived by His promise before His own Father 
That in His kingdom He'll not deny them

From under the altar the voices are crying
"How long, Lord, 'til You come judge the earth?" 
But He'll wrap and redeem them in robes of pure white
For the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church
Oh, the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church

From under the altar the voices are crying
"How long, Lord, 'til You come judge the earth?" 
But He'll wrap and redeem them in robes of pure white
For the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church
Oh, the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church