IV
And ever see the blinded lying low
At Bellevue, Camp Hill, and College Hall;
And ever see the corpses, row on row,
Their mangled faces covered with a pall:
And curses such as tongue could never speak
Rise in my heart and flutter through my mind
Upon the man who did such ruin wreak
And leave such grief and misery behind;
And then a change comes o’er my angry thought
And I can see outlined upon the Cross
The Man of Sorrows, and I think of what
He did that Death be not our loss;
And bowing down I cry on bended knee
My Lord, my God, I yet have faith in Thee.