Fling to the heedless winds
Flung to the heedless winds,
Or on the waters cast,
The martyrsí 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 Satanís 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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