Persecution and Salvation

We waded through the murky sea,
Its waters lapping at our legs.
The moon, it glimmered happily,
Drinking down the bitter dregs.

Snatching at our sullied shirts,
The wind, it laughed with wretched mirth.
We trudged on despite our hurts,
Seeking refuge from day’s birth.

We the fugitives of the war,
The only rebels bleeding still.
Our brothers’ bodies line the shore,
And yet our enemies long to kill.

Through the water we will tread,
To hide our footsteps from the men,
Who search for us and strip our dead,
And with one sight would shoot us then.

In the night we may be safe,
Lost in the shadow of the shroud,
Which cloaks us from the hateful waif,
The gun well-primed, loaded, proud.

Stay, hot sun, your rapid step,
Your light would put us in the grave,
With the men for whom we wept,
During search for copse or cave.

And yet that light on yonder hill,
Shows no mercy, love, or care,
But proceeds on with iron will,
And keeps us from our hidden lair.

There! A shot, from the trees!
Lost are we upon the beach.
We are all the pistol sees,
Trapped within his leaden reach.

The pain which tears at heart and soul,
Runs from shining steel fist,
Our lives they end, while waves still roll,
These cheeks are cold which once were kissed.

O! My captain, there we lie,
Blood mixing there with surf and sand.
Now look to Him who did too die,
Who gives to us His loving hand.

So our race and pain are done,
The earthly battle is there lost,
But celestial war we have won,
By grace which paid the sinner’s cost.