Gold moonbeam shed their misty light
O'er a saddened world;
To sound of deepest funeral dirge.
Islam's banner is unfurled,
With slow and measured step, tis borne,
Aloft amid the throng,
The emblem of a mighty hand
E'er raised to right a wrong,
In by-gone days its silken folds,
Waved proudly in Iran;
From Continent to Continent,
The Arab symbol ran.
Its path was marked by victory,
The triumph of the right;
Till darkest Africa's heathen hands,
Were bathed in purest light.
That day of happiness is gone;
No more in ecstasy borne,
The banner heads a sobbing throng;
Whose duty is to mourn.
The loss of him beloved by all
A hero without stain,
Whose noble sacrifice has made
The world ring with his name
With open hand he gave his all;
