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87

(1917) Author: Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson Translator: William Morton Payne With: William Morton Payne
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THE ARMY AWAKENS

On the forest side

Of the mound it stood,

Head close to head;

Marking each word;

So still

Was it, the birds on the boughs
Renewed their song.

« Faithful men,
Here is our goal.
Here will I conquer this day,
Or be borne to rest
On the Saviour’s breast.
What I now say to you, hear:
Be without fear.
The Lord is with us this day,
His way
Surely to triumph shall lead.
If to death on the field ye bleed,
Fear ye then naught,
Rest in the thought,
If ye of strength be bare,
His care
Protects you even in death.
Ye are the seed, here He saith,
The word to have birth
Must be buried in earth.
Blood-watered the root
Alone bears fruit,

87

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