379. Not by the martyr's death alone

Not by the martyr's death alone

The saint his crown in heaven has won,

There is a triumph robe on high

For bloodless fields of victory.

What though he was not called to feel

The cross, or flame, or torturing wheel,

Yet daily to the world be died,

His flesh, through grace, he crucified.

What though nor chains, nor scourges sore,

Nor cruel beasts his members tore,

Enough if perfect love arise

To Christ a grateful sacrifice.

Lord, grant us so to Thee to turn

That we to die through life may learn,

And thus, when life's brief <}ay is o'er,

Rejoice with Thee for evermore.

O Fount of sanctity and love,

O perfect Rest of saints above,

. All praise, all glory be to Thee,

Both now and through eternity.