 | Poems |  |
160
BATTLE PRAYER.
“E'en in the thickest press
Of the hot battle, where red spears were flashing,
And knightly helms were trampled in the dust,
Amid the trumpet's blast, the clash of weapons,
The echoing war-cry, and the steed's wild neigh,
His voice arose in prayer.”
Don Carlos.
Of the hot battle, where red spears were flashing,
And knightly helms were trampled in the dust,
Amid the trumpet's blast, the clash of weapons,
The echoing war-cry, and the steed's wild neigh,
His voice arose in prayer.”
Don Carlos.
Father! on thee I call—
The cannon booms—the smoke-wreath curls around;
Fiercely the death-shots plough the ensanguin'd ground,
Lord of Sabaoth! in the mortal fight,
Guide thou mine arm aright!
The cannon booms—the smoke-wreath curls around;
Fiercely the death-shots plough the ensanguin'd ground,
Lord of Sabaoth! in the mortal fight,
Guide thou mine arm aright!
161
Thou art the warrior's shield,
The warrior's trust—whate'er be thy decree,
Triumph or death, I bow submissively;
In the wild raging of this perilous hour,
My spirit owns thy power!
The warrior's trust—whate'er be thy decree,
Triumph or death, I bow submissively;
In the wild raging of this perilous hour,
My spirit owns thy power!
Art thou not present here?
Yes—in each varying scene, both soft and stern,
Thy providence I trace, thy hand discern,
And from the peaceful vale, or battle-sod,
I bless thee, oh, my God!
Yes—in each varying scene, both soft and stern,
Thy providence I trace, thy hand discern,
And from the peaceful vale, or battle-sod,
I bless thee, oh, my God!
All power, all might is thine,
Omnipotent! if so thy will ordain,
The boon thou gav'st, thou may'st recall again;
But still, in life, or death, defeat, or fame,
My voice shall praise thy name.
Omnipotent! if so thy will ordain,
The boon thou gav'st, thou may'st recall again;
But still, in life, or death, defeat, or fame,
My voice shall praise thy name.
162
Arise! oh, Lord, arise!
And aid our cause—not for the pride of kings,
Nor lust of gold, but for all holy things,
Altars, and hearths and homes, our swords are bared,
Arise! be thou our guard!
And aid our cause—not for the pride of kings,
Nor lust of gold, but for all holy things,
Altars, and hearths and homes, our swords are bared,
Arise! be thou our guard!
Exert thine awful sway!—
Nerve the weak arm, and to the sinking heart,
Ennobling zeal, sustaining strength impart;—
Creator, Guardian, Father, Lord of all,
On thee, on thee, I call!
Nerve the weak arm, and to the sinking heart,
Ennobling zeal, sustaining strength impart;—
Creator, Guardian, Father, Lord of all,
On thee, on thee, I call!
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