Classic Poem

Peace be to the souls of those
Which for Jesus Christ have bled,
Or that triumph'd o'er their foes
With the coals upon their head.

Which for him have undergone
Any other dread or death,
Crucify'd, or stabb'd, or sawn,
Blessing to their latest breath.

Simon well may claim a place
In our book of Common Pray'r;
Here he likewise planted grace
By his apostolic care.

He his pilgrimage perform'd
Far as the Britannic coast,
And the ready converts swarm'd
To receive the Holy Ghost.

Fair sincerity's the ground
For the Lord to sow his seed,
That will flourish and abound
With a goodly crop indeed.

Christ is pow'rful to renew
Men so quick his will to know,
Whence ten thousand churches grew,
And ten thousand more shall grow.

Farther yet, and farther east,
English sails shall be unfurl'd,
Wafting many a pious priest
To protest against the world.

Farther yet, and farther west,
We shall send the faith abroad,
Against nations to protest,
That are still by Christ unaw'd.

We shall cite from holy Jude
Wholesome texts to mend their way,
Whom our praise and pray'rs include
In the duty of to-day.

He is full of just complaint,
As foul deeds his wrath provoke;
And they massacred the saint
For the cutting words he spoke.

Let us therefore well provide
This good festival to hold,
Lest to us they be apply'd
As to wand'rers from the fold.

Lo! the church herself attires
For the work of pray'r and song;
To the strains that Christ inspires
Crowds of either sex shall throng.