The Unconverted.
"March! march! march!
Earth groans as they tread,
Each carries a skull, going down to the dead;
Every stride, every stamp, every footfall is bolder,
`Tis a skeleton's tramp, with a skull on its shoulder;
And, oh, how it treads, with high tossing head,
That clay-covered bone going down to the dead.”
The Converted.
"March! march! march!
How lightly they tread,
Looking up to that One who arose from the dead;
Every stride, every step, every footfall is bolder,
`Tis a sinner draws nigh, with a load off his shoulder;
And, oh, how he treads, looking up to his Head,
Who triumphantly rose from the midst of the dead.”