Into the surging world,
Upon thy lips His word,
And in thy hand His flag unfurled,
Go, soldier of the Lord;
Like Him who came from far
To toil for our release,
And framed the startling notes of war
Out of the psalm of peace.
And all the recompense
Which thou wilt ever need,
Shall kindle in the throbbing sense
Of this life-laden creed:
Grace has for him sufficed
Who has St. Michael's heart,
The fullness of the mind of Christ,
To do a hero's part.
Sympathy.
The Master we revere,
Who bled on Calvary,
To fill us with heroic cheer,
Abides eternally.
From His ascended heights
Above the pain and ruth,
To all His servants He delights
To come in grace and truth.
His presence is so dear,
His face so brave and fair,
That all our heavy burdens here
He somehow seems to share.
Copartner in our work,
He every pain beguiles;
How can the fear of failure lurk
In that on which He smiles!
Love for Love.
Master, far Thy dear sake
I bear my anguish now,
And in Thy blessed cross partake
Whose sign is on my brow.
For Thy dear sake I toil
Who didst so toil for me;
O more than balm, or wine, or oil,
The cheer that comes from Thee.
For Thy dear sake I live
A servant unto all,
And know that Thou wilt surely give
Thyself as coronal.
For Thy dear sake I watch
And keep my flag unfurled,
Until her golden gleam I catch,
Sweet evening of the world.
Conclusion,
True worker with the Lord,
He labors not for hire;
Co-partner in the sure reward,
What can he more desire?
Sometimes his eyes are dim,
All signs he can not spell;
Yet he endures as seeing Him
Who is invisible.
The work he ought is bliss,
The highest thing to crave;
And all his life is found in this
Memorial for his grave:
A worker with the Lord,
He sought no other name,
And found therein enough reward,
Enough, enough of fame.