Not on the gory field of fame
Their noble deeds were done;
Not in the sound of earth's acclaim
Their fadeless crowns were won.
Not from the palaces of kings,
Nor fortune's sunny clime,
Came the great souls, whose life-work flings
Luster o'er earth and time.
For truth with tireless zeal they sought;
In joyless paths they trod--
Heedless of praise or blame they wrought,
And left the rest to God.
The lowliest sphere was not disdained;
Where love could soothe or save,
They went, by fearless faith sustained,
Nor knew their deeds were brave.
The foes with which they waged their strife
Were passion, self, and sin;
The victories that laureled life
Were fought and won within.
Not names in gold emblazoned here,
And great and good confessed,
In Heaven's immortal scroll appear
As noblest and as best.
No sculptured stone in stately temple
Proclaims their rugged lot;
Like Him who was their great example,
This vain world knew them not.
But though their names no poet wove
In deathless song or story,
Their record is inscribed above;
Their wreaths are crowns of glory.
--Edward Hartley Dewart.