Item 03: Sydney B. Young war diary, 15 October 1916-14 April 1917 - Page 149
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[Page 149]
I heard a gentle whisper – It was the voice of God.
I saw the spirit of my past so happy and so free
The spirit of the future held it's claw-like hand to me
And with a courage sent by him I staved the awful grip
The shackels burst asunder by the prayer which left my lip.
I looked back on the life I left and dearly paid the toll
Twas not the body that counted most but the cry of a tortured soul
And the death of a noble self-respect that once had been my pride
They were the things which counted most and what is Life beside