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THE Spirit of Darkness, the Prince of the Power of the Air, / The terror that walketh by night, and the horror by day, / The legions of Evil, alert and awake and aware, / Press round him each hour; and I pray here alone, far away.
God! call up Thy legions to fight on the side of my love, / Let the seats of the mighty be cast down before him, O Lord, / Send strong wings of angels to shield him beneath and above, / Let glorious Michael unsheath his implacable sword.
Let the whole host of Heaven take part with my dear in his fight, / That the armies of Hell may be scattered like chaff in the blast, / And the trumpets of Heaven blow fair for the triumph of Right.
Inspire him, protect him, and bring him home victor at last.
But if-ah, dear God, give me strength to withhold nothing now! - / If the life of my life be required for Thy splendid design, / Give his country the laurels, though cold and uncrowned be his brow . / . .
Thou gavest Thy Son for the world, and shall _I_ not give mine?
1914.