Uit die diep donkerte roep my volk
Van daar onder waar die water kolk
Eers net ‘n fluistering in die wind
Dan die gille van ‘n benoude kind
Eers wou ek nie hoor
Hou ek ‘n dowe oor voor
Ek wou net nie luister
Hoe word my volk geteister
Ek soek na verskonings om myself te vermaak
Maar my volk staan in die koue, naak.
Terwyl die son hulle velle verbrand
Vind ek troos in my verstand.
Maar al kos dit ook my dood
En jy bevry is van jou nood
En jy my later sal vertrap
Sal ek nogtans die pad vir jou stap.
L.C.J. Engelbrecht
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