 | The Last Crusade |  |
7
THE ETERNAL PASSION.
God blessed it from the very first, He knew
The War was holy,
He saw Christ's Passion written in red dew;
While over all in pity and love He threw
His seal on high and lowly.
He drew the sword and cast away the sheath,
And walked in mercy on the strife beneath.
The War was holy,
He saw Christ's Passion written in red dew;
While over all in pity and love He threw
His seal on high and lowly.
He drew the sword and cast away the sheath,
And walked in mercy on the strife beneath.
The Lord of Hosts our Captain is, the blanks
In Him completed
March on in line with the bright angel ranks;
He asks no offering but our humble thanks,
Nor can Love be defeated.
We see His storm-tost banner in the Cross,
Which only wins by sacrifice and loss.
In Him completed
March on in line with the bright angel ranks;
He asks no offering but our humble thanks,
Nor can Love be defeated.
We see His storm-tost banner in the Cross,
Which only wins by sacrifice and loss.
A Man of War is God, He builded lands—
Nearness and distance,
Upon the sword He holdeth in His hands;
Yea, death and carnage are but His commands,
That shape worlds by resistance.
Our liberties and all our bulwarks rise
Through ransom blood, that waters Paradise.
Nearness and distance,
Upon the sword He holdeth in His hands;
Yea, death and carnage are but His commands,
That shape worlds by resistance.
Our liberties and all our bulwarks rise
Through ransom blood, that waters Paradise.
He treads the winepress yet Himself alone,
For each affliction
Falls upon Him the first and strikes His throne;
He speaks in thunder, and the cannon's tone
Now tolls His crucifixion.
Again He suffers and delights to die
In awful pangs, and seeks His Calvary.
For each affliction
Falls upon Him the first and strikes His throne;
He speaks in thunder, and the cannon's tone
Now tolls His crucifixion.
Again He suffers and delights to die
In awful pangs, and seeks His Calvary.
8
The graves His pillows are, and He lies down
Where men must sicken,
He wears their sufferings as His thorny crown;
And, when in deep abysses myriads drown,
He too is sorely stricken.
He resteth only on the sword's sharp edge
Before it pierceth, as His privilege.
Where men must sicken,
He wears their sufferings as His thorny crown;
And, when in deep abysses myriads drown,
He too is sorely stricken.
He resteth only on the sword's sharp edge
Before it pierceth, as His privilege.
The woe, the horror are His right, the curse
His chosen guerdon,
He agonizes lest we suffer worse;
For the whole travail of the universe
Is His sweet bliss and burden.
Each cruel death or doom is what He bears
For us, His heaven naught but our hell of cares.
His chosen guerdon,
He agonizes lest we suffer worse;
For the whole travail of the universe
Is His sweet bliss and burden.
Each cruel death or doom is what He bears
For us, His heaven naught but our hell of cares.
| The Last Crusade | |