Wherever through the ages rise
The altars of self-sacrifice,
Where love its arms hath opened wide,
Or man for man has calmly died,

I see the same white wings outspread
That hovered o'er the Master's head;
And the great marvel of his death
To the one order witnesseth.

Up from undated time they come,
The martyr-souls of heathendom,
And to his cross and passion bring
Their fellowship of suffering;

Each in his measure but a part
Of the unmeasured Over-Heart,—
Guide, Comforter, and inward Word,
The eternal Spirit of the Lord!