None of them are mine. But they are well worth being heard. The stories of the Martyrs.
The Martyr’s Song
We sing our songs,
But no one hears.
No wage but wrongs,
No food but fears.
Our lives are naught,
But coals that burn.
Bright when hot,
But dull in turn.
Our hope is far,
Our foes are near.
Held with bars
At points of spears.
At stakes we burn,
At swords we bleed.
Our Message spurned,
No one will heed.
Our blood cries out,
For justice done.
Our souls will shout,
Till comes the One.
Our hope though far,
Through danger dire.
Salvation comes,
In flaming Fire.
Our lives to some,
Seem cursed to
strife.
But we are blest,
With Heaven’s Life.
We heed no calling,
Of this earth.
Our lives we gave,
For Heaven’s worth.
No silver gray,
No idle gold.
Will tempt away
From Savior’s fold.
No Deathly pale,
Nor darkness grim.
Will make us fail,
Or reject Him.
Our war is won,
Our debt is paid.
In Him our lives,
Anew are made.
Soon we’ll stand,
On Heaven’s shore.
Free at last,
From trials sore.
Our pilgrim days,
And solemn race.
Will end in Savior’s
Kind embrace
Soon torn away,
The veil will be.
The Truth is clear
For all to see.
We knew in part,
But now in full.
The glory of
The Savior’s rule.
All tongues confess,
And knees will bend.
To worship Him,
Who has no end.
Our suff’rings now,
Though hard to bear.
To glory then,
Cannot compare.
Our lives are lost,
But this remains,
“To live is Christ,
And death is gain”.
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