I only know he heard God’s voice and came;
Brought all he loved across the sea,
To live and work for God—and me;
Felled the ungracious oak,
Dragged from the soil,
With torrid toil,
Thrice-gnarled roots and stubborn rock,
With plenty piled the haggard mountain-side,
And at the end, without memorial died;
No blaring trumpet sounded out his fame;