The broken men that the War has left to shun the gaze of all.
Is it nothing to you that pass us by—hurrying on your way,
Whispering low of peace and rest to the tune of a German song?
Only but for the Grace of God you might be where we lay—
With festering wounds in a truck for beasts, the butt of a laughing throng.
Peace and Rest? The peace will come when God shall stay His hand,
And change the heart of the German race that mocks at wounded men.
The rest you seek? What need of that? you fight for a Christian land,
And all Eternity waits for you—what need of rest till then?
We are broken and down in the fight of the world for an end to heathen lust,