A Prayer Poem by W H Littlejohn
A Prayer
Lord, if it be Thy will
That I enter the great shadowed valley that lies
Silent, just over the hill,
Grant they may say, 'There's a comrade that dies
Waving his hand to us still!'
Lord, if there come the end,
Let me find space and breath all the dearest I prize
Into Thy hands to commend:
Then let me go, with my boy's laughing eyes
Smiling a word to a friend.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/1/2024 8:52:48 AM # 1.0.0.1119
