The heroes of the world have pens
To celebrate their praise,
And laurel wreaths and diadems,
And fame’s applause that wide extends
The glory of their days!
And waving banners kiss the sun,
O’er him who victories hath won,
And made a nation slaves!

Great Julius, lord of ancient Rome,
Led captive kings in chains;
And Macedon’s imperial son
The habitable world o’errun,
But what of them remains?
Mingling with all the millions slain,
(The cost of their ephemeral fame)
They’ve left us but their names.

And tales of blood, and sculptured stone,
Fast crumbling to decay,
And beasts of savage nature roam
Where once the massive gilded dome
Shone bright in sunny ray.
Is human glory more than this?
A siren’s sweet but treacherous kiss,
That serves for but a day?

Where rolls the periodic Nile,
On Egypt’s classic ground,
The towering monumental pile,
Where ghostly monarchs strut and smile,
On royal wrecks around,
But serve to show ambition’s aims,
Though fortune crowned but this obtains,
Death and a moldy mound.

But there are heroes worthier far,
Unstained with human gore,
Who ne’er were borne on tri­umph’s car,
That heralded great deeds in war,
Nor crown of empire wore;
Yet vict’ries they achieve, unknown
To any save themselves alone,
And Him who went before.

No clarion of renown proclaims
Their names of moral worth,
Nor pageantry, nor martial strains,
Nor all that worldly greatness claims
Are theirs upon the earth:
And still their lives are more sublime
Than warriors of illustrious line,
Or prince of royal birth!

And they are followers of the Lord,
As meek as nobly brave;
Their battle cry’s the Holy Word—
Their only weapon is the sword
Of faith that Jesus gave!
In life’s great victories they win
O’er all the tempting hosts of sin,
And triumph o’er the grave!

Though unrewarded here below,
Oppressed and stricken sore;
Though Sa­tan’s mes­sen­gers of woe,
Or Hea­ven suf­fer­ings be­stow,
They love the Savior more!
Through tribulation purified,
They shout, Redeemer crucified!
And God fore’er adore.

Nicholas Brum Clark
Poems, 1883