Along the battle’s flaming van We mark the tried and true, —
Defenders of the cause of man, A chosen, peerless few.
Born to their mission and inspired, Oh, should they fall, we feel
No spirit would like theirs be fired, No hand could wield their steel.
Yet, one by one, they step aside, Or on the red field lie,
And still their places are supplied, Still rings the battle-cry;
Still o’er the hoary walls of Wrong Truth’s startling missiles fly,
And still, with steady step and strong, Her hosts are marching by.
And so it shall be evermore, Until the trump is blown,
Proclaiming Wrong’s hard rule is o’er, And Right is on the throne.
Oh, fear not for our cause sublime!Let hate do all it can;
For in the darkest coming time The hour shall bring the man.
I. G. Blanchard