THE garlands wither on your brow,
Then boast no more your mighty deeds;
Upon Death’s purple altar now,
See, where the victor-victim bleeds:
Your heads must come
To the cold tomb,
Only the actions of the just
Smell sweet, and blossom in their dust.
AND since he appeals to all, and all of us here below are soldiers enlisted to fight the good fight against evil; the battle of order against disorder; of light against darkness; since we are all of us given power, nay commanded, strictly commanded—from the supreme head of the society to which we belong, down to the obscurest Christian amongst us—we will bring our forces, however humble, in aid of the common aim.
HERE on earth we are as soldiers, fighting in a foreign land, that understand not the plan of the campaign, and have no need to understand it; seeing well what is at our hand to be done. Let us do it like soldiers, with submission, with courage, with a heroic joy.