I hear the footsteps get softer and softer until there are no more to be heard
The taps have been played, shots shot from the rifle
There is only rustling in the trees of a bird
People turn, walk quietly away,
Some stay behind and for the families pray
Fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters softly begin to cry
In the stillness of the night people walk on by…
“Oh Lord!” I cry out from within my heart,
“… These people are lost when from the earth they depart”
“They are lost for all eternity,
Condemned for their iniquity.”
Inside my chest my heart begins to scream
“They are going to hell!” “How can I be so mean —
And hoard for myself the Gospel I know
Of the One who loved me so?”
© Lukas Westevy
1999