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1875–1932

* THE PRAYER *

Edgar Wallace

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 ai n'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 ai n'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!

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* THE PRAYER * · Edgar Wallace · Poetry Cove