God has endowed a precious gift to us,
It's the love of a mother which is so surplus ;
Even when the whole world becomes venomous,
She is the one who remain scrupulous. ...
DEAD, with their eyes to the foe,
Dead, with the foe at their feet;
Under the sky laid low
Truly their slumber is sweet,
Though the wind from the Camp of the
Slain Men blow,
And the rain on the wilderness beat.