And yet I know that prayer and praise
Are not the whole of life;
Thee soul must gird its armor on
And go amidst the strife
With fiery dangers rife__
Must fight its way to heaven's gate,
A soldier of the cross.
A BATTLE WELL LOST.
A theory may be abandoned; a conviction must be fought for.__Beckwith.
"The soldier of truth never surrenders; his ship's colors are nailed to the mast."
IN cloudless skies the May-day sun shone fair, ..
The while with steadfast, peaceful look He said:
"Is there not room among the holy dear
For him who does his best? A few must dare,
And vanquished fall, and thus the way prepare;
Then, hosts to Truth's slow victory are led;"
And forth with most unselfish hopes he sped,
With earnest faiths, and with ideals rare.
In clouded skies the wintry sun shone dim,
The while I watched a single ship outbrave
A hostile fleet . . . . The ship went down at last,
With cannon's roar in place of burial hymn,
With all her colors flying at the mast,
And he who nailed them there, beneath the wave.