The White Cross
Drifting in pride through a nameless sea.
I’m not alone for He comforts me.
My body lies in the cold, cold ground,
I’ve died for the cause of liberty.
The sons of these or the sons of those
now embracing their own wilted rose,
calling loudly from the cold, cold ground.
Fight ! Our freedom grows and grows.
When in the brunt of death, snow and sleet,
our failing and shortcomings we meet,
embrace the truth of the cold, cold ground,
and rise Phoenix, rise above defeat.
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