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The Faithful Tribe: An Intimate Portrait of the Loyal Institutions
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And his life he’d yield, on the blood-stain’d field,
Ere with that bright gem he’d part.
The Orangeman is a man of might,
But trusts not in fleshly arm;
He dares to fight for freedom and right,
And he knows no vain alarm.
But strong in truth, in virtue bold,
He fears no earthly harm;
For his heart’s stronghold, like his sires of old,
Is in virtue’s potent charm.
The Orangeman is a man of thought,
He dwells upon glories past;
Upon battles fought and great deeds wrought,
Where blew war’s deadliest blast;
And remembers mercies heaven bestowed,
When affection’s waves roll’d fast;
When man’s wrath o’erflowed, on life’s rough road
Were thorns and brambles cast.
The Orangeman is a man of faith,
He believes what is written – all,
And reveres till death what the Scripture saith,
No matter what does befall.
He hears, as it were, from heaven’s high throne,
His uprisen Master call;
And he takes his cross, and enduring loss,
Bursts through the world’s dead thrall.
The Orangeman is a man of prayer,
To heaven looks for aid;
Against want and care and every snare,
For his soul’s dread ruin laid.
And a prayerful man is never known
In perils to be afraid;
For God’s power is shown when he alone
Can save from the foeman’s blade.
The Orangeman is a man of peace,
But purity peace precedes;
And when ills increase, he cannot cease
To be warlike in his deeds.
Thus does he become a man of strife,
Of strife in a holy cause;
And when danger is rife, he would risk his life
For the King, and Church, and laws.
The Orangeman is a man of love,
He prays for his enemies,
And he’d seek to move the great King above,
On his humble bended-knees.
He loves his Bible, he loves his King,
And all good men he sees;
He loves the Orange, nor hates the Green,
And he bows to the law’s decrees.