Requiem

Not with an empire’s hollow pomp;
     Not in a monarch’s jeweled pall,
But as a brother gently lay him,
     Soldier and statesman loved by all.

Is this loss to crown our freedom,
     And in its blessing seal belief?
Help, O Lord, thy struggling people;
     Pardon a nation hushed in grief.

Then, as men, ponder the awful lesson,
     Knitting the kindred of earth in one.
Oh, let us join our departed in saying:
     “Not our will, but God’s, be done.”