Songtext von Bloody Ground

At the round earths imagin'd corners Blow your trumpets, angells, and arise, Arise from death, You numberlesse infinities of soules, And to your scattred bodies goe All whom warre, dearth, Age, agues, tyrannies, Dispaire, law, chance, Hath slaine, and you whose eyes But let them sleep, lord And me mourne a space for If above all these My sinnes abound Teach me how to repent For that's as good As if thou'hadst seal'd May pardon with the blood This late to aske abundance Of the grace When we are there Here on this lowly ground This is bloody ground