PERFECT CONTRITION
“Send for a priest,” the small disc readThat clasped his neck around;But he, brave soul, was long since deadWhen found upon the ground.A crucifix was in his hand,Stained by his bloody kiss,This newest of the martyr bandTo taste of Heaven’s bliss.Thomas F. Coakley, Lt., Chaplain.
“Send for a priest,” the small disc readThat clasped his neck around;But he, brave soul, was long since deadWhen found upon the ground.A crucifix was in his hand,Stained by his bloody kiss,This newest of the martyr bandTo taste of Heaven’s bliss.Thomas F. Coakley, Lt., Chaplain.
“Send for a priest,” the small disc readThat clasped his neck around;But he, brave soul, was long since deadWhen found upon the ground.
“Send for a priest,” the small disc read
That clasped his neck around;
But he, brave soul, was long since dead
When found upon the ground.
A crucifix was in his hand,Stained by his bloody kiss,This newest of the martyr bandTo taste of Heaven’s bliss.Thomas F. Coakley, Lt., Chaplain.
A crucifix was in his hand,
Stained by his bloody kiss,
This newest of the martyr band
To taste of Heaven’s bliss.
Thomas F. Coakley, Lt., Chaplain.