PE of the Nations, lift thy stricken heart.
Thyself art Sorrow, and to thee the
Of battle-anguish comes more
Than even in those months of sneer and smart,
When thou so steadfastly didst bear thy part,
True Champion of Peace.
And now, when
The war-storm rages, when horne's darlings
By mangled thousands, lift thy stricken
For a white shield of mercy, torch that
Its reconciling gleam across the seas.
O thou in love and grief pre-eminent,
Divine shall be thy comfort to
These bleeding Christian armies, sudden
That slaughter in a fierce astonishment.
