- Ambassador of Christ you go
- Up to the very gates of Hell,
- Through fog of powder, storm of shell,
- To speak your Master's message: "Lo,
- The Prince of Peace is with you still,
- His peace be with you, His good-will."
- It is not small, your priesthood's price,
- To be a man and yet stand by,
- To hold your life while others die,
- To bless, not share the sacrifice,
- To watch the strife and take no part --
- You with the fire at your heart.
- But yours, for our great Captain Christ,
- To know the sweat of agony,
- The darkness of Gethsemane,
- In anguish for these souls unpriced.
- Vicegerent of God's pity you,
- A sword must pierce your own soul through.
- In the pale gleam of new-born day,
- Apart in some tree-shadowed place,
- Your altar but a packing-case,
- Rude as the shed where Mary lay,
- Your sanctuary the rain-drenched sod,
- You bring the kneeling soldier God.
- As sentinel you guard the gate
- 'Twixt life and death, and unto death
- Speed the brave soul whose failing breath
- Shudders not at the grip of Fate,
- But answers, gallant to the end,
- "Christ is the Word -- and I has friend."
- Then God go with you, priest of God,
- For all is well and shall be well.
- What though you tread the roads of Hell,
- Your Captain these same ways has trod.
- Above the anguish and the loss
- Still floats the ensign of His Cross.