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The Western home

And Other Poems

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THE PRAYER ON BUNKER HILL.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


110

THE PRAYER ON BUNKER HILL.

[_]

During the battle of Bunker Hill, a venerable clergyman knelt on the field, with hands upraised, and gray head uncovered, and while the bullets whistled around him, prayed for the success of his compatriots, and the deliverance of his country.

It was an hour of fear and dread—
High rose the battle-cry,
And round, in heavy volumes, spread
The war-cloud to the sky;
'Twas not, as when in rival strength
Contending nations meet,
Or love of conquest madly hurls
A monarch from his seat.
Yet one was there unused to tread
The path of mortal strife,
Who but the Saviour's flock had fed
Beside the fount of life;
He knelt him where the black smoke wreathed,
His head was bowed and bare,
While for an infant land he breathed
The agony of prayer.

111

The column, red with early morn,
May tower o'er Bunker's height,
And proudly tell a race unborn
Their patriot fathers' might;
But thou, O patriarch old and gray!
The prophet of the free,
Who knelt among the dead that day—
What fame shall rise to thee?
It is not meet that brass or stone,
Which feel the touch of time,
Should keep the record of a faith
That makes thy deed sublime;
We trace it on a tablet fair,
Which glows when stars wax pale—
A promise that the good man's prayer
Shall with his God prevail.