(_In hoc signo vinces._)
O, crimson cross of Calvary!
O, heavenly sign of Constantine!
O, mercy-emblem of the free,
The victory must still be thine!
Thou paradox of horrid war
Shalt stand unscathed when it is o’er!
Was by this sign the pagan host
On Tiber’s banks subdued at last,
Without the reck’ning of the cost,
And all the suff’ring of the past,
How much less now should money be
The measure of its victory!
A holy emblem of the hearts
Which love and weep, and gladly give,
That each true soldier who departs
May mid the conflict hope to live,
For when he does the cross behold,
It cheers his soul and makes him bold.
Ah, let it go where’er he goes,
With all its kindly ministries!
Through this from million hearts there flows
A stream of warmest sympathies;
And must he give his all, even then,
It is to him his last true friend.
Speed on, Red Cross, thou heaven-sent,
Into the lands of pain and woe,
Until their madness shall be spent,
And thou shalt stand amid the glow
Of that new dawn of Brotherhood,
A symbol of man’s highest good!