MY PRAYER

What God is this that now commands a world
To bathe itself in pools of blood,
And then with swords unsheathed and flags unfurled
Bring ripples to this purple flood?
“Tis not the God Supreme:
But lesser ones, the gods of blood and steel
That challenge heaven, all in a row,
To clash Her arms ‘gainst theirs.
And I feel God's awful wrath descending low.
Things are not what they seem:
For when His Throne, usurped by savage man,
Avenges, its on justices' side:
She'll hold Her own, and all usurpers can
Immerse in their own bloody tide.
O Heaven what ghastly theme!
Pour out revenge and crush the damned foe.
Exhaust their tortures, make them yell.
Deal out unsparingly of want and woe,
And if desired, loosen hell.
Then muster once again
The knights of Thy domain,
And mobiles all Christians true
For that grand last campaign.

            J. W. ANTHONY.
Fferws Hill.