Beneath The Crosses

Beneath the crosses, row on row, He, too, has found a place And He shall nevermore return to fill that empty space. He was too young to die, they said, when the sad news was told. Too young to die? Did you then think death’s only for the old? Beneath the crosses, row on row, his cheerful voice is stilled; And vacant seat at home and church by him shall not be filled. And say not that ‘tis war’s cruel jest which takes him from you now; For when our Father calls us home, we all to Him must...