There is no gain but by a loss;

We cannot save but by the cross,

The corn of wheat to multiply

Must fall into the ground and die;

O should a soul alone remain

When it a hundredfold can gain?

O should a soul alone remain

When it a hundredfold can gain?

Our souls are held by all they hold;

Slaves still are slaves in chains of gold;

To whatsoever we may cling,

We make it a soul-chaining thing.

Whether it be a life or land,

And dear as our right eye or hand.

Whether it be a life or land,

And dear as our right eye or hand.

Wherever you ripe fields behold,

Waving to God their sheaves of gold,

Be sure some corn of wheat has died,

Some saintly soul been crucified;

Someone has suffered, wept and prayed,

And fought hell's legions undismayed.

Someone has suffered, wept and prayed,

And fought hell's legions undismayed.