The Son of God goes forth to war,
A kingly crown to gain;
His blood-red banner streams afar!
Who follows in His train?
Who best can drink his cup of woe,
Triumphant over pain,
Who patient bears his cross below,
He follows in His train!
The martyr first, whose eagle eye
Could pierce beyond the grave,
Who saw his Master in the sky
And call'd on Him to save,
Like Him, with pardon on his tongue
In midst of mortal pain,
He pray'd for them that did the wrong!
Who follows in his train?
A glorious band, the chosen few
On whom the Spirit came:
Twelve valiant saints, their hope they knew,
And mock'd the cross and flame.
They met the tyrant's brandish'd steel,
The lion's gory mane;
They bow'd their necks the death to feel!
Who follows in their train?
A noble army – men and boys,
The matron and the maid,
Around the Savior's throne rejoice,
In robes of light array'd.
They climb'd the steep ascent of Heaven,
Through peril, toil, and pain!
Oh God! To us may grace be given
To follow in their train!
(Special thanks to our friend Pastor Bruce Wasson for his special gift of
The Poetical Works of Reginald Heber, Late Lord Bishop of Calcutta
by M. A. DeWolfe Howe , from which this poem was taken.)