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The river of history moves on, but the Cross remains.
And when the strong torture the weak,
the head of the Man on the Cross
inks deeper on His tired breast.
And when the poor cry for bread,
the head of the Man on the Cross
inks deeper on His tired breast.
And when soldiers are ordered to do battle,
the head of the Man on the Cross
inks deeper on His tired breast.
And when mothers and fathers go mad when they see their children die,
the head of the Man on the Cross sinks deeper on His tired breast.
In a world at war, the image…
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