Like a wraith in the night
I watch his slender shadow.
His swift long strides in
The grey halls, the green meadow.

My husband, my faith
In the good and pure,
A martyr when his soul left his lips,
That spoke of martyrdom afore.

Ye men of order and law and blood,
Who would steal life in the name of God,
Speak to me of martydom no more.