From The Sun, August 11, 1914. By Edward S. Van Zile.
God of my Fathers, grant me aid
That I may rout my countless foes!
By Thee were guns and cannons made.
From Thee the joy of battle flows.
O God, who gave me might and power,
Thou knowest that my heart is pure.
Be with me in this awful hour
That I and mine may still endure.
Thou are the God who loveth war,
And famine, rapine, blood and death;
I pray Thee stand beside me, for
Thou knowest what my spirit saith.
The soul of me is linked with Thine
To bid the blood of heroes flow.
The death we grant them is divine,
And in Thy name I bid them go.
God of my Fathers, still be kind
To them who raise Thy banner high,
While Thou and I together find
The surest way for them to die.
They do my bidding. God, look down
And bless the sword that I have drawn.
My blight shall fall on field and town,
And thousands shall not see the dawn.
To Thee, O God, I give all praise
That Thou hast made my hand so strong;
That now, as in my father’s days,
The King and Thee can do no wrong.
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