Our Lord the path of suffering trod
And since His blood for man hath flowed,
’Tis meet that man should yield to God
The life he owed.
No shame to own the Crucified—
Nay, ’tis our immortality
That we confess our God who died,
And for Him die.
Filled with this thought, with patient smile
All threats the martyr doth withstand,
Fights, Lord, Thy cause, and leans the while
Upon Thine hand.
Beholding his predestined crown,
Into death’s arms he willing goes;
Dying, he conquers death; o’erthrown,
O’erthrows his foes.
Lord, make us Thine own soldiers true
Grant us brave faith, a spirit pure
That for Thy name, Thy cross in view,
We may endure.
Eternal Father of the Word,
Eternal Word, we Thee adore,
Eternal Spirit, God and Lord,