Vain and defeated each effort of life,
Feeble and hoary, sick of the strife,
But yet in my bosom a spirit says, 'rise,'
A voice calling onward out of the skies.

Though wounded in battle, bleeding I lay,
I hear the voice calling, and strive to obey.
And make my last effort the battle to gain;
Ah! death is upon me, I struggle in vain.