He pondered the old-world story in the sunset's golden glow,
The tale of the fame and glory of heroes of long ago,
And his blue eyes shone with ardour as he read the stirring page 
That told how the foemen scattered before the Christian's rage, 
Till at length the Holy City was freed from the heathen sway,
And Godfrey's conquering banner waved over the proud array,
And the gallant chieftain's warriors brought him the crown of gold
And there came the noble answer of this hero true and bold: -- 
    "Here where a crown of thorns was won
      By Him whose death redeemed our loss,
    An earthly crown would ill adorn 
      The Soldier of the Cross." 

And there, as the sunset glory o'er the stately home was shed, 
He thought of the Lord who knew not where to lay His sacred head 
And he vowed he would follow the Saviour who freed us from sin 
As the noble chieftain followed in the days of long ago.
Bravely he kept his holy vow, yielding his life-long years 
To lighten the load of the weary, to dry the mourner's tears:
Striving to reach the city that knows nor grief nor death,
Murmuring as he softly sighed his life's last lingering breath:
    "Here have I sought a crown of thorns 
      Like His whose death redeemed our loss."
    A crown of life in Heaven adorns
      The Soldier of the Cross.