In War Time And Other Poems

, . Above the storm our prayers we lift, Thy will be done The flesh may fail, the heart may faint, But who are me to make complai it, Or dare to plead, in times like these, The weakness of our love of ease Thy will be done. We take with solemn tliankfulness Our burden up, nor ask it less, And count it joy that even we May suffer, serve, or wait for Thee, Whose mill be done Tllough dim as yet in tint and line, We trace Thy pictures wise design, And thank Thee that our age supplies Its dark relief of sacrifice. . . P Tl yw ill be done And if, in our unworthiness, Thy sacrificial wine we press If from Thy ordeals heated bars Our feet are seamed with crirnsoil scars, Thy will be done If, for the age to come, this hour Of trial hath vicarious power, And, blest by Thee, onr present pain Be Libertys eternal gain, Thy mill be done a Strike, Thou the Master, we Thy keys, The anthem of the destinies The minor of Thy loftier strain, Our hearts shall breathe the old refrain, Thy will be done . T HE firmament breaks up. I11 blaclc eclipse Light after light goes out. One evil star, Luridly glaring through the smoke of war, As in the dream of the Apocalypse, Drags others down. Let us not weakly weep Nor rashly threaten. Give us grace to keep Our faith and patience wherefore should we leap On one hand into fratricidal fight, Or, on the other, yield eternal right, Frame lies of law, and good aiid ill confouild What fear me Safe on freedoms vantage grouild A WORD FOR THE HOUR... --This text refers to an alternate Paperback edition.