I call’d poor outcasts to the feast of grace;
Urg’d to pursue the work, by thee begun,
Through good and ill report, I still rush’d on,
Nor felt the fire of popular applause,
Nor fear’d the torturing flame in such a glorious cause.
“One in His hand, O may we still remain,
Fast bound with love’s indissoluble chain;
(That adamant which time and death defies,
That golden chain which draws us to the skies!)