O val­iant hearts who to your glo­ry came
Through dust of con­flict and through bat­tle flame;
Tranquil you lie, your knight­ly vir­tue proved,
Your me­mo­ry hal­lowed in the land you loved.

Proudly you ga­thered, rank on rank, to war
As who had heard God’s mes­sage from afar;
All you had hoped for, all you had, you gave,
To save man­kind—your­selves you scorned to save.

Splendid you passed, the great sur­ren­der made;
Into the light that ne­ver­more shall fade;
Deep your con­tent­ment in that blest abode,
Who wait the last clear trum­pet call of God.

Long years ago, as earth lay dark and still,
Rose a loud cry upon a lone­ly hill,
While in the frail­ty of our hu­man clay,
Christ, our Re­deem­er, passed the self same way.

Still stands His cross from that dread hour to this,
Like some bright star above the dark ab­yss;
Still, through the veil, the Vic­tor’s pi­ty­ing eyes
Look down to bless our les­ser Cal­va­ries.

These were His ser­vants, in His steps they trod,
Following through death the mar­tyred Son of God:
Victor, He rose; vic­to­ri­ous too shall rise
They who have drunk His cup of sac­ri­fice.

O ris­en Lord, O Shep­herd of our dead,
Whose cross has bought them and whose staff has led,
In glo­ri­ous hope their proud and sor­row­ing land
Commits her child­ren to Thy gra­cious hand.