“I grieve for you, Jonathan my brother; you were very dear to me. How the mighty have fallen! The weapons of war have perished!”
Lord, keep our hand from sin’s red sword,
We serve our anger, to our shame.
Devouring fires, like Satan’s hordes
Consume e’en those we love and name.
But not upon our swords we die,
But wait death’s spears as Jonathan,
To seek alone bright heaven’s crown,
With him we die; with Thee, step down.