 | Lyrics: By Martin F. Tupper |  |
152
The Gracious Message.
Wounded soldiers! lying weak,
Sick, or shot, or gash'd by swords,
Listen! for your Queen doth speak,
Hearken to her gracious words!
From her soul of courage calm,
Earnestly those words distil,
Dropping like a precious balm,
Every heart to cheer and thrill.
Sick, or shot, or gash'd by swords,
Listen! for your Queen doth speak,
Hearken to her gracious words!
From her soul of courage calm,
Earnestly those words distil,
Dropping like a precious balm,
Every heart to cheer and thrill.
153
“Tell each wounded man apart,
“As they lie in ghastly groups,
“Tell them how our inmost heart
“Feels for our beloved troops:
“Noble fellows! say from us,
“No one yearns on such a scene
“With more sympathy than thus
“Yearns their own admiring Queen.
“As they lie in ghastly groups,
“Tell them how our inmost heart
“Feels for our beloved troops:
“Noble fellows! say from us,
“No one yearns on such a scene
“With more sympathy than thus
“Yearns their own admiring Queen.
“Tell the men, my wounded sons,
“Simple privates in the ranks,
“That to those heroic ones,
“Queen and Prince have sent their thanks:
“Still we think of them in love,
“Praying for them day and night,
“And our trust is strong above,
“For such Champions of the Right.”
“Simple privates in the ranks,
“That to those heroic ones,
“Queen and Prince have sent their thanks:
“Still we think of them in love,
“Praying for them day and night,
“And our trust is strong above,
“For such Champions of the Right.”
| Lyrics: By Martin F. Tupper | |