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Fling to the heedless winds
Flung to the heedless winds,
Or on the waters cast,
The martyrs’ ashes, watched,
Shall gathered be at
last.
And from that scattered dust,
Around us and abroad,
Shall spring a plenteous seed,
Of witnesses
for God.
The Father hath received,
Their latest living breath,
And vain is Satan’s boast,
Of victory in
their death.
Still, still, though dead, they speak,
And, trumpet tongued, proclaim,
To many a wakening
land,
The one availing Name.
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