Oh man of God, thou seekest not earthly glory,
Thou dost not crave earth's dying wealth and fame,
Desirest not a hero's praise in story,
Nor dost thou seek to win a titled name.
Earth's passing glory settest thou at naught,
Yet has thou vict'ries won, and battle fought.
No silken badge, no medals gold adorn thee,
No earthly laurels crown thy burdened life,
And still, though cruel weapons oft have torn thee,
Hast thou emerged a victor through the strife.
Yet wieldest thou no earthly tyrant's sword,
Thy mighty armor is---"THUS SAITH THE LORD."
Thou hast not merely stood 'neath earthly banner,
In bold defense of honor and of law,
But thou hast fought in a triumphant manner
The scarlet monster John at Patmos saw.
Thy laurels are no earthly jewels bright,
But grateful hearts from darkness brought to light.
Like Paul of old, imprisoned, scourged,
Tortured and slandered, silenced,---all but slain,
Yet while the harlot's hosts at feasts have eaten,
Rejoicing at thy fate,---'twas all in vain!
The Lord who guided Israel o'er the sea
Has still kept watch, my Christian friend, o'er thee
No prison-bars, no pain, no desolation,
No slandering tongues, no fiendish craft sufficed
To cast thee from the Rock of thy salvation,
To tear thee from the Gospel of thy Christ.
Oh, battle on! Thy Jesus leads the way,
Thou Gideon,---thou Luther of today!
'Tis all in vain Rome's mighty hordes pursue thee
'Tis all in vain they throw a thousand darts;
Oh, tremble not, her hosts cannot subdue thee,
Ten thousand prayers arise from loving hearts,---
"Lord God of Hosts, whose name and power we sing,
Oh keep Thy servant 'neath Thy shelt'ring wing."
But Oh! the battle will not rage forever,----
Soon will the brilliant morn of glory dawn;
Naught, naught can then from thy reward thee sever,
And,all thy trials will be past and gone,
When all earth's wickedness away is cast,
And Babylon has met her doom at last.
May God remain thy Strength and thy Defender,
May He bless thee and thine through all the years;
Blessed be thy home!---and may the bounteous Sender
Of Heaven's gifts all thy bitter tears,--
Until thou seest thy Saviour face to face,
Saved by His precious blood and glorious grace.
-Composed by Miss Anna Hoppe, Milwaukee, Wis,