Leave God's own Ranks Drawn up to Fight

Leave God's own ranks drawn up to fight,
And strike a hand in proffered palm
Of some fair foe to seek the calm,
To lie with her in fields of light.

Yet hark ! Hell's gathering legion-tramp !
And if no crush of iron hoof
Through heart and brain you feel, 'tis proof
Death's numbne.ss doth your spirit cramp !

P'orego the battle, and forego
The kingly strength of spirit won,
The smile Divine when all is done
From heights of being man may know !

Vet warrior camped at close of day
May list the lapse of some pure stream
That lingers in the soft moonbeam,
Gliding unheeded in the fray.