Monday 27 July 2009
Saturday 18 July 2009
Remembrance Day
_svg_med.png)
A view that most of us take for granted but not for the Men and Women who did not make it home."For them we must not forget"
THE FINAL INSPECTION
The soldier stood and faced God, Which must always come to pass.
He hoped his shoes were shining,Just as brightly as his brass.' Step forward now, you soldier,How shall I deal with you ?Have you always turned the other cheek ?To My Church have you been true?' The soldier squared his shoulders and said,'No, Lord, I guess I ain't.
Because those of us who carry guns,Can't always be a saint.
I've had to work most Sundays,And at times my talk was tough.And sometimes I've been violent,Because the world is awfully rough.
But, I never took a penny,That wasn't mine to keep...Though I worked a lot of overtime,When the bills got just too steep.And I never passed a cry for help,Though at times I shook with fear.
And sometimes, God, forgive me,I've wept unmanly tears.I know I don't deserve a place,Among the people here
.They never wanted me around,Except to calm their fears.If you've a place for me here, Lord,It needn't be so grand
.I never expected or had too much,But if you don't, I'll understand.There was a silence all around the throne,Where the saints had often trod.
As the soldier waited quietly,For the judgment of his God.'
Step forward now, you soldier,You've borne your burdens well.Walk peacefully on Heaven's streets,You've done your time in Hell.'
90th Anniversary of the Armistice at Garve Ross-Shire
In Flanders Fields
by John McCrae,
In Flanders fields the poppies blowBetween the crosses, row on row,That mark our place; and in the skyThe larks, still bravely singing, flyScarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days agoWe lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,Loved and were loved, and now we lieIn Flanders fields.Take up our quarrel with the foe:To you from failing hands we throwThe torch; be yours to hold it high.If ye break faith with us who dieWe shall not sleep,though poppies growIn Flanders fields.
by John McCrae,
In Flanders fields the poppies blowBetween the crosses, row on row,That mark our place; and in the skyThe larks, still bravely singing, flyScarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days agoWe lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,Loved and were loved, and now we lieIn Flanders fields.Take up our quarrel with the foe:To you from failing hands we throwThe torch; be yours to hold it high.If ye break faith with us who dieWe shall not sleep,though poppies growIn Flanders fields.
"We must not forget"
We Shall Keep the Faith
by Moina Michael.
Oh! you who sleep in Flanders Fields,Sleep sweet - to rise anew!We caught the torch you threwAnd holding high, we keep the FaithWith All who died.
We cherish, too, the poppy redThat grows on fields where valor led;It seems to signal to the skiesThat blood of heroes never dies,But lends a lustre to the redOf the flower that blooms above the deadIn Flanders Fields.
And now the Torch and Poppy RedWe wear in honor of our dead.Fear not that ye have died for naught;We'll teach the lesson that ye wroughtIn Flanders Fields.
by Moina Michael.
Oh! you who sleep in Flanders Fields,Sleep sweet - to rise anew!We caught the torch you threwAnd holding high, we keep the FaithWith All who died.
We cherish, too, the poppy redThat grows on fields where valor led;It seems to signal to the skiesThat blood of heroes never dies,But lends a lustre to the redOf the flower that blooms above the deadIn Flanders Fields.
And now the Torch and Poppy RedWe wear in honor of our dead.Fear not that ye have died for naught;We'll teach the lesson that ye wroughtIn Flanders Fields.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
