No worldly thought has checked the flow, no guilty act has stained;
Thy wings are strong, while mine are weak; thy love is fresh,
ungeigned,--
To these, thy heights, I cannot soar, held down by sense and sin,
How can I storm the citadel?--the traitor lurks within!
Forsake me not, my God! Thy spirit pour!
Oh, make me true to Him whom I adore!
With Thee I rise,--the flesh, the world, defy,
Thou, who hast died for me, for Thee I die!
Yes, I will go! With heaven-born zeal I burn,
I will be free,--all Satan's lures I spurn;
Death, torture, outrage, these will I embrace,
To nerve my heart and arm, Heaven grant me grace!

POLY.
On eagle wings of faith and hope ascend!
I hail my master--recognise my friend;
The old faith wanes,--we light her funeral pyre,
Her ashes fall before our holy fire;
Come, trample under foot the gods that men have wrought;
The rotten, helpless staff is broke, is gone--is naught.
Their darkness felt they own, but let them see the light!
Their gods of stone, of clay, but vampires of the night!
Their dust shall turn to dust,--shall moulder with the sod,
Ours for His name to fight:--the issue is with God.

NEAR.
The cause is just, is true--O coward heart, be still!
I lived to doubt His word--I die to do His Will!