English poem
*The Prayer*
by Edgar Wallace (1875–1932)
O God of Battles! Lord of Might! A sentry, in the silent night, I, 'oo 'ave never prayed, Kneel on the dew-damp sands, to say, O see me through the comin' day-- But, please remember, though I pray, That I am not afraid!
O God of Battles! Lord of Might! 'Ere in the dusky, starry light, My inner self I've weighed; An' I 'ave seen my guilt an' sin; I'm black as black can be, within, But though I would forgiveness win, It ain't 'cos I'm afraid!
O God of Battles! Lord of Might! Keep me, to-morrow, in Your sight!-- Far 'ave I erred an' strayed. I've flaunted You, with gibe an' sneer, At 'ome, with chums to laugh and cheer, But now, I am alone--out 'ere! But still I ain't afraid!
O God of Battles! Lord of Might! The en'my's camp-fires twinkle bright. To-morrow, Lord, Your aid; The canteen was my Sunday-school: The drill-book was my Golden Rule; Wot are they now? O 'elpless fool! But still, I'm not afraid!
O God of Battles! Lord of Might! The price of every thoughtless slight To-morrow will be paid! A voice is whisp'rin' to my 'eart-- A voice that makes me sweat an' start!-- 'To-morrow, soul an' soldier part!' But I--I'm not afraid!
O God of Battles! Lord of Might! 'Ere, in the silence of the night, My 'umble prayer is prayed! All life an' death are one to you! If I must die--O 'elp me to! In that last moment, see me through-- My God! I am afraid!