O GOD of Battles, who art still The God of Love, the God of Rest, Subdue thy people's fiery will, And quell the passions in their breast! Before we bathe our hands in blood We lift them to thy Holy Rood. The waiting nations hold their breath To catch the dreadful battle-cry; And in the silence as of death The fateful hours go softly by. Oh, hear thy people where they pray, And shrive our souls before the fray! Before the sun of peace shall set, We kneel apart a solemn while; Pity the eyes with sorrow wet, But pity most the lips that smile. The night comes fast; we hear afar The baying of the wolves of war. Not lightly, oh, not lightly, Lord, Let this our awful task begin; Speak from thy throne a warning word Above the angry factions' din. If this be thy Most Holy will, Be with us still, -- be with us still! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A PASTORAL DIALOGUE: SHEPHERD, NYMPH, CHORUS by THOMAS CAREW ON A CERTAIN LADY AT COURT by ALEXANDER POPE VERLAINE by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE LAKE ISLE OF INNISFREE by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS OVER THE ROSE-LEAVES, UNDER THE ROSE by JOHN BENNETT (1865-1956) COMPENSATION by MARION L. BERTRAND INTRODUCTION TO A LADY'S ALBUM by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD |