One Thing Is About To Be Finished,

What Broke In A Man When He Could Bring Himself To Kill Another?

There Are Voices Crying What Must Be Done, A Hundred, A Thousand Voices. But What Do They Help If One Seeks For Counsel, For One Cries This, And One Cries That, And Another Cries Something That Is Neither This Nor That.

I Am A Weak And Sinful Man, But God Put His Hands On Me, That Is All.

When I Go Up There, Which Is My Intention, The Big Judge Will Say To Me, Where Are Your Wounds? And If I Say I Haven’t Any, He Will Say, Was There Nothing To Fight For? I Couldn’t Face That Question. (ah, But Your Land Is Beautiful)

The Tragedy Is Not That Things Are Broken. The Tragedy Is That Things Are Not Mended Again.