Ah! know ye not in Israel

A prince is fallen to-day,

A just man, from the ills to come,

In mercy called away!

The Church is clothed in mourning,

Who shall supply her loss?

A standard bearer’s quit the field,

A soldier of the cross.

On mission high and holy

He braved the watery main,

And many a faithful heart rejoiced

To welcome him again.

Thrice had the veteran warrior

Nobly forsaken all,

And trod our western wilderness

Obedient to His call,

Whose voice he knew from childhood,

And followed where it led,

For perfect love reigned over him,

And banished fear and dread.

Meekly he journeyed onward,

Unmoved by praise or blame;

The mark was always kept in view,

And steady was his aim.

Unfaltering trust in Jesus

Had ever nerved his arm;

He knew His shield of love was near,

Protecting him from harm.

Like Paul, he “went from house to house,”

And boldly preached the word,

And many souls, accepting it,

Were gathered to the Lord;

While from his heart and from his lips,

As onward he would pass,

Fell gentle benedictions,

As showers upon the grass.

Nor from the galling chains of sin

Alone he sought to free;

However named, the bondsman claimed

His whole-souled sympathy.

Bending beneath a weight of care,

A pilgrimage of years,

Before the rulers of the land

Behold him plead with tears!

For poor down-trodden Africa

He lifts his latest breath,

And, with her name upon his lips,

Sinks in the arms of death.

Thoughts of the distant and the loved

Came thronging to his heart;

He felt ’twere sweet to be with them,

Yet sweeter to depart.

“Better to go and be with Christ,”

Were the blest words he said;

Then, in the midst of bonds and chains,

The enfranchised spirit fled;

And in a far-off stranger land,

Near Holston’s billowy wave,

A voice is calling silently

From that lone martyr’s grave.

Oppressor, list its meaning!

It is to thee it calls;

Ah! heed the solemn warning voice

Before the judgment falls.

It tells thee that a martyr’s prayers

Are heard in highest Heaven,

That soon the shackles of the slave

In mercy shall be riven.

God will avenge his own elect

Who are groaning to be free;

His promises are sure: “He will

Avenge them speedily.”

But where will be the oppressor

In that soul-searching day,

When perfect truth and equity

Have undivided sway?

Quailing before the majesty

Of the Omniscient One,

Dealers in slaves and souls of men

Will feel their work is done;

And, bowed beneath that word of God

Which pierces like a sword,

Call on the rocks to hide them

From the presence of the Lord.

But Mercy’s voice is whispering,

Immanuel died to save,

And he designs rich fruit shall spring

From that lone martyr’s grave.