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!