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     A voice of pleading choked with tears,
The call of human hopes and fears,
     The Macedonian cry to Paul!

The storm-bell rings, the trumpet blows;
     I know the word and countersign;
Wherever Freedom's vanguard goes,
     Where stand or fall her friends or foes,
I know the place that should be mine.

Shamed be the hands that idly fold,
     And lips that woo the reed's accord,
When laggard Time the hour has tolled
     For true with false and new with old
To fight the battles of the Lord!

O brothers! blest by partial Fate
     With power to match the will and deed,
To him your summons comes too late
     Who sinks beneath his armor's weight,
And has no answer but God-speed!


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Paul (1)
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