The archer's arrow smote me sore,
Sped by a skillful foe-man's hand;
And, though I bled at every pore,
The faith within me bade me, STAND.
The MASTER plac'd me; and He knew,
His orders were my only law;
And 'twas not one, when arrows flew,
That I should cowardly withdraw.
The soldiers in the Christian war,
With much to do, and much to dare,
Proclaim, in every bleeding scar,
Their faith in Him, who placed them there.
Great Chief and Leader of the strife!
Thy death has taught us how to die;
And if with Thee we yield our life,
Then death itself is victory.
Sped by a skillful foe-man's hand;
And, though I bled at every pore,
The faith within me bade me, STAND.
The MASTER plac'd me; and He knew,
His orders were my only law;
And 'twas not one, when arrows flew,
That I should cowardly withdraw.
The soldiers in the Christian war,
With much to do, and much to dare,
Proclaim, in every bleeding scar,
Their faith in Him, who placed them there.
Great Chief and Leader of the strife!
Thy death has taught us how to die;
And if with Thee we yield our life,
Then death itself is victory.
— Christ in the Soul (1872) LVII.
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