The Uncrowned Dead by J. A. L. Darby

Pacific Press Publishing Association · Mountain View, California · Mar 19, 1912

The Uncrowned Dead

By J. A. L. Darby

The uncrowned dead, the uncrowned dead, In many lands they lie, In alien isles, where duty led, To dare, and fight, and die.

The heedless wind blows o'er the spot, The vacant stars shine down; Their name and country are forgot, They won no fair renown.

Yet bravely there they toiled and wrought, And fearlessly they died, Still mastered by the nobler thought They trusted them to guide.

With honors gained by toil and loss, Men distant lands explore, And lo, the bearer of the cross Has reached the spot before.

No sordid motive drove him there, But choice and purpose free, His fellow men his only care, Man's need his only plea.

He freely gave, as did his Lord, The best he had to give, No ruthless service of the sword, But life, that men might live.

And some for sterner duty dear, Where arms must clash in fight, As best they knew, with conscience clear, Have battled for the right;

As when of yore, by high command, In justice without ruth, The chosen host swept from the land The enemies of truth;

Or when, as to the bondman's cry Avenging Heaven gave ear, And countless thousands marched to die For what they held most dear.

Ah, yes, the uncrowned dead are there, Tho slab ne'er mark the sod; Themselves for right they did not spare— And left all else with God.

They sleep in thousands there mayhap, And none can tell a name; Their mangled corpses filled the gap— But others got the fame.

For praise of men they did not fight, Nor cared to whom it fell, But, loyal to their highest light, Their part they acted well.

To them approval from within Was more than earthly fame; From God and self they sought to win A conscience free from blame.

And so they lie, the uncrowned dead, 'Neath many alien skies, Unknown, forgotten in their bed Until the dead arise.

Forgot and crumbled into dust; Yet are their deeds enrolled, Beyond the reach of moth and rust, In words of living gold.

Forgot; yet could eternal night Such souls forever bind, The universe must perish quite, "And leave no wrack behind."

For if the innate purpose high Nowhere may claim its own, All nature is a cursed lie Through every clime and zone;

And right, and truth, and moral worth, Are lures by devils planned To torture souls, for fiendish mirth, With visions vain and grand.

Sleep, uncrowned dead, till God's designs Proclaim thy royal birth, When kings are known by other signs Than mark the great of earth.