Upon his will he binds a radiant chain,
For Freedom's sake
he is no longer free,
It is his task,
the slave of Liberty,
With his own blood to wipe away a
stain.
That pain may cease, he yields his
flesh to pain.
To banish war,
he must a warrior be,
He dwells in Night,
eternal Dawn to see,
And gladly dies, abundant life to
gain.
What matters Death, if Freedom be not
dead?
No flags are furled,
if Freedom's flag be furled.
Who fights for Freedom, goes with
joyful tread
To meet the fires
of Hell against him hurled,
And has for captain Him whose torn-wreathed
head
Smiles from the
Cross upon a conquered world.
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Christ on the Cross, by El Greco, 1585-90
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