1 Away from his home and the friends of his youth,
He hastened, the herald of mercy and truth;
For the love of his Lord, and to seek for the lost;
Soon, alas! was his fall; but he died at his post.
Soon, alas! was his fall; but he died at his post.

2 The stranger's eye wept, that in life's brightest bloom,
One gifted so highly should sink to the tomb:
For in ardor he led in the van of the host,
And he fell like a soldier, he died at his post.

3 He wept not, himself, that his warfare was done:
The battle was fought, and the victory won;
But he whispered of those whom his heart loved the most,
"Tell my brethren for me, that I died at my post."

4 He asked not a stone to be sculptured with verse;
He asked not that fame should his merits rehearse;
But he asked as a boon, this he coveted most
That his brethren might know that he died at his post.

5 How can we the words of our brother forget?
Oh, no! they are fresh in our memory yet:
And example so sacred shall never be lost,
We will fall in the work we will die at our post.