I want to be like Jesus,
  Who left His throne on high
For hell-deserving sinners
  To live, and work, and die.

Forsaking all His glory,
   His power He laid aside,
His entrée—lo! a manger!
  His exit—crucified!

We human fools rejected,
  And left to stand alone,
The only real Victor
  This world has ever known.

By men despised, rejected;
  By devils deified;
By friends denied, forsaken;
  By angels glorified.

I’ll live and die for Jesus,
  Battling for the right,
Proclaiming Christ’s salvation
  To sinners left and right.

I will not be a mannikin!
  To live in ease at home,
I’ll be a Christian warrior!
  Who loves with Christ to roam.

I will not be a skulker!
  Those words ring in my ear,
“Shall your brethren go to war?
  And ye? shall ye sit here?”

I’d sooner be a sceptic,
  Who’d ne’er confessed Christ’s Name,
Than make a great confession,
  But fear to play the game.

If I to others preached and taught
  That consecration’s right,
I wouldn’t stop in Britain,
  To merely talk and write.

I wouldn’t say to others “Go,
  “The wolf needs your attentions;
Myself I’ll tickle the pretty lambs
  Who frequent our Conventions.”

I wouldn’t like to criticise
  The fighters in the ring,
Unless I had the pluck to cut
  Dame Europe’s apron string.

I wouldn’t be a talker,
  With his pretty nouns and verbs,
His nicely polished phrases,
  And alliterated words.

Such things may please old women,
  And the maids of either sex;
They nauseate a soldier,
  They irritate and vex.

For the soldier’s heart is simple,
  And true, and brave, and strong;
Not quite the man to tickle
  With a sentimental song.

The offerings of a soldier
  Are wrought of golden deeds,
He cultivates no flowers,
  He reckons words as weeds.

His words are few and simple,
  And giv’n with such a snap
As makes you think of lightning,
  And its after thunder-clap.

For his commands are rugged,
  And terse, and loud, and hoarse,
But they set the men in motion,
  Artillery, foot and horse.

For his men are dead sure certain
  That when they’re sent to the front
Their Chief won’t stay in Britain,
  Shunning the battle’s brunt.

For their Captain’s “Go” means “Come,”
   And he fights at the head of his men,
And not all the pleasures or wealth of the world,
  Could tempt him to leave them then.

Thus Jesus leads the way,
  As well as brings up the rear,
And He’s always there in the thick of the fight,
  To save, and help, and cheer.

I’m going to stake my all for Christ
  Like brave Epaphroditus,
Who gambled with his life for Paul,
  The prince of Christian fighters.

For how can man live better
  Than gambling for the Christ,
Who lived and died for sinners,
  And heaven sacrificed?

So I’ll live and die for Jesus,
  Battling for the right;
Proclaiming Christ’s salvation
  To sinners day and night.

~ C. T. Studd