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Away from his home
and the friends of his youth,
He hasted, the herald
of mercy and truth,
For the love of the Lord,
and to seek for the lost;
|: Soon, alas! was his fall—
but he died at his post. :|
The stranger's eye wept,
that in life's brightest bloom
One gifted so highly
should sink to the tomb;
For in order he led
in the van of the host,
|: And he fell like a soldier—
he died at his post. :|
He wept not himself
that his warfare was done;
The battle was fought,
and the victory won:
But he whispered of those
whom his heart clung to most,
|: "Tell my brethren, for me,
that I died at my post." :|
He asked not a stone
to be sculptured with verse;
He asked not that fame
should his merits rehearse;
But he asked, as a boon,
when he gave up the ghost,
|: That his brethren might know
that he died at his post. :|
Victorious his fall—
for he rose as he fell
With Jesus, his Master,
in glory to dwell;
He has passed o'er the stream,
and has reached the bright coast,
|: For he fell like a martyr—
he died at his post. :|
And can we the words
of his exit forget?
Oh no! they are fresh
in our memory yet:
And example so brilliant
shall never be lost,
|: We will fall in the work—
we will die at our post. :|
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marker 99
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LYRICS
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Meter:
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11 11 11 12 12
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Writer(s):
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Trans/Adapted:
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Dates:
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Bible Refs:
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MUSIC
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Name:
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DRUMMOND
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Meter:
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11 11 11 12 extended
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Writer(s):
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Dates:
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echo ' | ';
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Hymn Writer
