Flung to the heedless winds,

Or on the waters cast,

Their ashes shall be watched,

And gathered at the 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;

Yet 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 prevailing name.