InTheir Deaths They Were Not Divided
Theirs not to make reply
Theirs not to reason why
Theirs but to do and die
Tennyson
InTheir Deaths They Were Not Divided
After the battle, thick upon the plain
The bodies of soldiers slain were lying.
Wounded were moaning in their greater pain
For duty dying
In the last state in which all men are equal,
Resting at length together, hate defied,
Death its sequel.
All they had fought for - fleeting earthly gain
Now was forgotten, peace their souls had filled.
Cared not that it may have been in vain
The blood they had spilled.
Resting in peace, their mortal warfare over
They wait their judgment at the throne of Grace.
Equal - at last, now standing before
Halo’s of love they see God's face!
Beryl McMullen