Your hands that threw the torch in Flanders Field; Your bodies which lie crumbling back to dust; Your crosses, silent emblems of the trust That, through your sacrifice, would be revealed To us, a path of peace, a golden shield, A coat of armour, to protect the just And righteous of the earth, whenever lust, The fawning Temptress, sought to make us yield: You are not forgotten, though the world is torn With greed and hatred, which you died to save. Embue us Lord, with grace, that we may pave The way to lasting peace. Kindle again A flame like glowing poppies in the morn That we may pray: @3They have not died in vain@1. |