There they lay now troubled sleeping,
worn and stained from their weeping;
Into their mind a force was creeping,
to keep them from their weeping.
During the days which follow them,
heard in passing a familiar hymn;
Tho the words lay comfort at their feet,
prayer warriors would they soon meet.
Long before our fraile human cry,
strangers by us will pass us by;
Not by us will them we greet,
for they sit at the masters feet.
Days and days they sit at his feet to listen,
swords of compassion raised and glissen;
Tucked inside their minds everything we say,
comfort they give to us on our wanting day.
Then one day guestbook note is found,
into our hearts their words are bound;
And the cheer written by them we see,
a warrior wrote and prayed for you and me