FROM all the woe and sorrow that bloody warfare brings, when monarchs
start to borrow some grief from other kings, from dreadful scenes of
slaughter, and dead men by the cord, from blood that flows like water,
deliver us, O Lord! From fear and melancholy that every death list
gives, from all the pompous folly in which an army lives, from all the
strife stupendous, that brings no sane reward, but only loss tremendous,
deliver us, O Lord! From seeing friend and neighbor in tools of death
arrayed, deserting useful labor to wield the thirsty blade; from seeing
plowshares lying all rusty on the sward, where men and boys are dying,
deliver us, O Lord! From seeing foreign legions invade our peaceful
shore, and turn these smiling regions to scenes of death and gore, from
all the desolation the gods of war accord to every fighting nation,
deliver us, O Lord!
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