Ghost with gentle voices, calling us never to wake
And we see another nation rising from the ashes
Soon to unearth what we cannot escape
As time draws near for all of us

Make amend, dear tyrant
And be my ominous companion
Through horrors' eye we'll seek vision lost to the sheep
Rapt and fitfully chained

Hear the trumpets' sound!
The angels of discord are gathering
Such beautiful faces, such poisonous tongues
A dead world assembly

Into the world you brought me
And after your world you wrought me
With a finger to your mouth
And I lost myself in the sea
Carrying the waves of time
There's nothing to believe
And you ask me why I grieve

Make amend, dear tyrant
And be my ominous companion
Through horrors' eye we'll seek vision lost to the sheep
Rapt and fitfully chained

Earth raised up her head
From the darkness' dread and drear
Her light fled, and her locks covered with grey despair
(WIlliam Black 1757-1827)

Hear the trumpets' sound!
Our empire stifles and crumbles
This terrible loss will generate us
Gone from this dead world assembly

Here is the void
Here is the cross we carry with us
Through this dead world assembly