Yen Cress Poems
From inland mountains to the salt-soaked shore,
From China's border to the southern plains,
The earth lies drenched in sweat and bloody gore,
And tears keep falling like the summer rains.
Where is the peace we offered to restore?
What have we done, and who has paid the price?
Two million bodies live and breathe no more,
And corpses rot in graves near fields of rice.
A father weeps; his only son is dead.
Small children cry; their mothers cannot come.
A boy is blinded; old rags swathe his head.
Young widows beg the mercy of Quan Am.
The Viet ...
She does her humble Christian works
For cripple here and leper there,
No matter whether danger lurks.
She smiles at sick ones, while they stare
At eyes of mercy, hands that care.
She ministers to needs deplored
And opens doors to sun and air.
She serves her Lord!