Gathering brands from the burning,
   Plucking them out of the fire,
Lifting the sheep that have wandered,
   Out of the dust and the mire,
Bringing home sheaves from the harvest
   To lay at the Master's feet--
Lord! all thy hosts of angels
   Must smile on a life so sweet.

Speaking with fear of no man,
   Speaking with love for all,
Warning the young and the thoughtless
   From the wild beast--"Alcohol."
Showing the snares that the tempter
   Weaveth on every hand.
Lord! all thy dear, dear angels
   Must smile on a life so grand.

Fighting the bloodless battle
   With a heart that is true and bold;
Fighting it not for glory,
   Fighting it not for gold,
But out of love for his neighbor,
   And out of love for his Lord.
And I know that the hands of the angels
   Will crown him with his reward.

For whoso works for the Master,
   And whoso fights his fight,
The angels crown with a star-wreath,
   And it glows with gems most bright.
They wear them for ever and ever,
   The saints in that land of bliss,
And I know that heaven's best jewel
   Is kept for a soul like this.