To the unknown saints...

 With golden letters set in brave array
Throughout the Church's record of the 
year,
The great names of historic saints appear,
Those ringing names, that, as a trumpet, play
Uplifting music o'er a sordid way,
And sound high courage to our earth-
dulled ear;
But, underneath those strains, I seem to
hear
The silence of the saints that have no day.

Martyrs blood-red, and trodden souls, care-
gray,
In hierarchal pride no place they boast;
No candles born for them where pilgrims
pray,
No haloes crown their dim and countless
host;
And yet-the leaven of their humble sway,
Unrecognized, unguessed, avails the most.

by Kathleen Perry

sung at Shenandoah Christian Music Camp
"How Can I Keep From Singing?"