1  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?

 2  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.

 3  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.