 | The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith |  |
[There where the hosts of darkness lie]
“Fight the good fight of faith.”—
1 Tim. vi. 12.
There where the hosts of darkness lie,
And the brave battle rages high,
Give me my post to live or die
With fearless heart:
Thou, Lord, alone may'st plan the fight,
Alone array the battle right,
Mine but to do with all my might
My little part.
And the brave battle rages high,
Give me my post to live or die
With fearless heart:
Thou, Lord, alone may'st plan the fight,
Alone array the battle right,
Mine but to do with all my might
My little part.
It may be just to watch and wait,
Like sentinel to keep the gate,
And so outwit the cunning sleight
Of crafty foe;
Or it may be, 'mid dust and smoke,
To ply the sword with thrust and stroke
Until the bands of sin are broke,
Or lying low.
Like sentinel to keep the gate,
And so outwit the cunning sleight
Of crafty foe;
Or it may be, 'mid dust and smoke,
To ply the sword with thrust and stroke
Until the bands of sin are broke,
Or lying low.
Perchance 'twill be a humbler post,
Only to serve Thy chosen host
Who fight the battle, never lost,
In strength divine;
And sword or spear I may not wield,
But travel o'er the stricken field,
And comfort to the wounded yield
Who thirst or pine.
Only to serve Thy chosen host
Who fight the battle, never lost,
In strength divine;
And sword or spear I may not wield,
But travel o'er the stricken field,
And comfort to the wounded yield
Who thirst or pine.
Not mine to choose my work or fate,
Whether to die with hope elate,
Or live the triumph to relate
In after years.
Enough to battle in Thy name,
For truth and right, but not for fame,
And ne'er Thy holy cause ashame
By coward fears.
Whether to die with hope elate,
Or live the triumph to relate
In after years.
Enough to battle in Thy name,
For truth and right, but not for fame,
And ne'er Thy holy cause ashame
By coward fears.
And if it be my lot to fall
Unnoticed and unknown of all,
Named only in the great roll-call,
So let it be:
Give me my weapon and my task—
Tumbrel, or sword, or waterflask,
To know my post is all I ask,
And to serve Thee.
Unnoticed and unknown of all,
Named only in the great roll-call,
So let it be:
Give me my weapon and my task—
Tumbrel, or sword, or waterflask,
To know my post is all I ask,
And to serve Thee.
| The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith | |