I am not like Jesus I can't save
no powers,their problem I can't shave
so lord before they take me to my grave
remind them that though it was small I still gave ...
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.