Servant of God, well done!
Rest from thy loved em­ploy;
The bat­tle fought, the vic­to­ry won,
Enter thy mas­ter’s joy.
The voice at mid­night came;
He start­ed up to hear;
A mor­tal arrow pierced his frame:
He fell, but felt no fear.

Tranquil amid alarms,
It found him on the field,
A ve­ter­an, slum­ber­ing on his arms,
Beneath his red-cross shield.
His sword was in his hand,
Still warm with re­cent fight,
Ready that moment, at com­mand,
Through rock and steel to smite.

It was a two-edged blade
Of heav’n­ly tem­per keen;
And dou­ble were the wounds it made,
Where’er it glanced be­tween.
’Twas death to sin—’twas life
To all who mourned for sin;
It kin­dled and si­lenced strife,
Made war and peace with­in.

Oft with its fie­ry force
His arm had quelled the foe,
And laid, re­sist­less in his course,
The ali­en ar­mies low.
Bent on such glo­ri­ous toils,
The world to him was loss,
Yet all his tro­phies, all his spoils,
He hung up­on the cross.

At mid­night came the cry,
To meet thy God pre­pare!
He woke, and caught his cap­tain’s eye;
Then, strong in faith and pray­er,
His spir­it, with a bound,
Left its en­cum­ber­ing clay;
His tent, at sun­rise, on the round,
A dark­ened ru­in lay.

The pains of death are past,
Labor and sor­row cease;
And, life’s long war­fare closed at last,
His soul is found in peace.
Soldier of Christ, well done!
Praise be thy new em­ploy;
And while eter­nal ag­es run,
Rest in thy Sav­ior’s joy.