Oh, nobly shone the fearful cross upon your mail afar, br When Rhodes and Acre hailed your might, O lions of the war! br When leading many a pilgrim horde, through wastes of Syrian gloom; br Or standing with the cherub's sword before the holy tomb. br Yet on your forms the apron seemed a nobler armor far, br When by the sick man's bed ye stood, O lions of the war! br When ye, the high-born, bowed your pride to tend the lowly weakness, br The duty, though it brought no fame, fulfilled by Christian meekness-- br Religion of the cross, thou blend'st, as in a single flower, br The twofold branches of the palm--humility and power.