The Martyrs' Hymn


 * Flung to the heedless winds,
 * Or on the waters cast,
 * The martyrs’ ashes, watched,
 * Shall gathered be at last;
 * And from that scattered dust,
 * Around us and abroad,
 * Shall spring a plenteous seed
 * Of witnesses for God.


 * The Father hath received
 * Their latest living breath;
 * And vain is Satan’s boast
 * Of victory in their death;
 * Still, still, though dead, they speak,
 * And, trumpet-tongued, proclaim
 * To many a wakening land
 * The one availing name.

Marttyyrien hymni