Veteran’s Prayer

(On the death of William McKinley.)

As the cloud upon the sun
     Shades thy hills, My Native Land,
And the weeping has begun
     That relieves the scorching sand,
May the shadow of our grief
     Yield a blessing from on high
That will bring us the relief,
     From the spirit, drawing nigh.

If we loved our chief too well,
     Loved not Thee as we should do,
May a kind, forgiving spell,
     Like the falling of the dew,
Soothe our sorrows, as we grope,
     Blinded by the darkening cloud.
Oh! Our Father, let us hope,
     Even if we were too proud.

Our dear Comrade, thou hast bid
     To a higher trust, we know.
Us, thy children, thou hast chid,
     Guide us gently as we go.
As the cloud doth clear away
     In the waning of the night,
May the stars new beams display,
     And our land be bathed in light.