DEEP in the dark they are hidden, Down under the sod, Sleeping the while they are bidden, Where no man has trod.


Warm is the earth as a mother, Life stirs in her folds, Kind is the earth as no other, Most gently she holds.


Dead in the dark are they lying? Not so, they but wait, Safe from all sorrow and sighing, While day grows late.


Morn until noon they are sleeping Just there shall they wake Waiting the Master's great reaping, When day dawn shall break.