Excerpts from Mark Twain’s posthumously published “War Prayer.”
“There ain't a song in my breast for you” — Gray-eyed Mornings by Jeh Sea Wells
© Woah!
Powered with WordPress
Jesse Welles
performing Mark TwainExcerpts from Mark Twain’s posthumously published “War Prayer.”
Oh Lord our God
Help us to tear their soldiers into shreds with our shells
Help us to cover their smiling fields
With the pale forms of their patriot dead
Help us to drown out the thunder of the guns
With the shrieks of their wounded
Help us to ring the hearts of their
Unoffending widows with unavailing grief
And to turn them out roofless, their little children
To wander unfriended the waste of their desolated land
For us who adore thee, Lord,
Blight their lives, blast their hopes
Water their way with their tears
Make heavy their steps
Stain the white snow with the blood of their wounded feet
We ask this in the spirit of love
Of him who is the source of love
And who is an ever faithful refuge
And friend of all those sore beset
And who seek his aid with a humble and contrite heart
Amen
Mark Twain dictated his “War Prayer” around 1904-05. It was rejected by his publisher and was found after his death among his unpublished manuscripts. It was first published in 1923 in Albert Bigelow Paine’s anthology, Europe and Elsewhere. It is in response to a particular war, namely the Philippine-American War of 1899-1902.
The full text from Twain is as follows:
“O Lord our Father, our young patriots, idols of our hearts, go forth to battle — be Thou near them! With them — in spirit — we also go forth from the sweet peace of our beloved firesides to smite the foe. O Lord our God, help us to tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells; help us to cover their smiling fields with the pale forms of their patriot dead; help us to drown the thunder of the guns with the shrieks of their wounded, writhing in pain; help us to lay waste their humble homes with a hurricane of fire; help us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with unavailing grief; help us to turn them out roofless with little children to wander unfriended the wastes of their desolated land in rags and hunger and thirst, sports of the sun flames of summer and the icy winds of winter, broken in spirit, worn with travail, imploring Thee for the refuge of the grave and denied it — for our sakes who adore Thee, Lord, blast their hopes, blight their lives, protract their bitter pilgrimage, make heavy their steps, water their way with their tears, stain the white snow with the blood of their wounded feet! We ask it, in the spirit of love, of Him Who is the Source of Love, and Who is the ever-faithful refuge and friend of all that are sore beset and seek His aid with humble and contrite hearts. Amen.”
Learn more about The War Prayer.
“There ain't a song in my breast for you” — Gray-eyed Mornings by Jeh Sea Wells
© Woah!
Powered with WordPress