To Thee, dear God of Mercy, both appeal, Who straightway sound the call to arms. Thou know'st; And that black spot in each embattled host, Spring of the blood-stream, later wilt reveal. Now is it red artillery and white steel; Till on a day will ring the victor's boast, That 'tis Thy chosen towers uppermost, Where Thy rejected grovels under heel. So in all times of man's descent insane To brute, did strength and craft combining strike, Even as a God of Armies, his fell blow. But at the close he entered Thy domain, Dear God of Mercy, and if lion-like He tore the fall'n, the Eternal was his Foe. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 14 by ALFRED TENNYSON SHADOWS IN THE WATER by THOMAS TRAHERNE THE EAGLE SWIFT by ADAM OF SAINT VICTOR NEVERNESS, OR THE ONE SHIP BEACHED ON ONE FAR DISTANT SHORE by MARGARET AVISON THE LORD SPEAKS by KARLE WILSON BAKER EPIGRAM by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM FOR STURDY FEET by A. DOROTHEA BATES |