Fail the fires, fail the light
And fail the stars upon the night,
In darkness be the Earth unmade,
Till even ashen embers fade;
Still here I stand and here I stay,
Through frigid night and bitter day,
And though we spin on shadow’s lathe,
And though we struggle in our faith,
I will not stumble, though I quake;
I will not part from Glory’s wake,
The call is hard, the pain is sharp,
The rending tune of Heaven’s harp,
The echo of a distant horn,
The herald of a coming morn.
