“My heart is sore pained within me, and the terrors of death are fallen upon me. Fearfulness and trembling are come upon me, and the horror hath overwhelmed me. And I said, ‘Oh that I had wings like a dove! For then would I fly away, and be at rest.” Psalm 55
Be still my heart.
The death of infants is upon me
The death of children is upon me
The terrible death of the young is upon me.
Be still my soul
Do not tremble so shaking the foundations of the world.
I have blood on my hands
We have blood on our hands
Shall we ever be forgiven?
When you cried mama
Where was I
Where were the mothers of the world?
When I heard you cry mama
I raised my eyes to the crimson sunset of blood and cried
See, see where Christ’s blood streams in the firmament!
Be still be still
For the blood of children is all around me
The man-made darkness engulfs me
O where were we
For the childish ghostly procession is upon us
Let the star of love rise and redeem us