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THE CROSS; TO THE MOTHERS OF THE MARTYRED DEAD UPON FIELD OF BATTLE, by                    
First Line: My flesh cries out for its own flesh!
Last Line: And share with thee the tortures of the cross.
Subject(s): Martyrs; Mothers & Sons; Religion; Soldiers; Soldiers' Writings; Theology


My flesh cries out for its own flesh!
My blood demands its own heart's blood!
The thundrous roar of cannon is the answer to my call.
Give me back my flesh and blood!
To bring forth I did pass through dark Gethsemane,
And bear with Him the tortures of the Cross;
And to what end? to add one more unto
The martyred dead upon the field of battle.
His dear face, covered with my kisses,
Upturned in marble coldness, blood-stained,
The death-dew gathering on his brow.
His sweet voice, lingering fondly "Farewell, Mother!" forever stilled.
His loving arms entwined about me,
Mangled, torn with shot and shell.
O Mother of the Christ!
Again I pass through dark Gethsemane,
And share with thee the tortures of the Cross.





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