The time of sorrow for the outpoured blood
Of many soldiers, who, in sacrifice
Offer their lives for good in war’s o’erwhelming flood
Shall set up Love in triumph over vice.
They die, to live where Time’s sad fleeting years
No more shall test their manhood’s glorious worth.
Death robbed of all its tears by life which knows no fears,
Is their reward for sacrifice on earth.
So we must dry our poignant coursing tears,
And weep not, lest our weeping cause them pain,
For Hope must dry our tears and transform all our fears,
That Hope that tells us we must meet again.
There’s music in the promises of God,
More gladsome to those men of simple faith
Who fought for sake of good, ’gainst men of evil mood,
And found the way of Life and Peace in Death.
For life they know survives the gloomy grave—
Such confidence belongs to simple faith—
No ill can e’er deprave a hope so strong and brave—
Making Love reign triumphant over death.