A Prayer for the Soldier
He's gone!
No trumpet blare, no herald's call,
To mark his trek to unknown land,
Just this silent, weeping heart,
To deliver him to the Creator's Hand.
He goes! With marked lack of flare,
With pride I hear his footsteps fall
Unto that path of shrouded glory,
Answering his honor's call.
To offer up his strength in service,
To join the faceless, unkown others,
To hold on high the just and righteous,
Or perhaps to die 'longside his brothers.
Unto Thy keep I give his soul,
What these empty arms no longer hold,
Pray you keep him safe and blessed,
And in Thine arms do him enfold.
I pray Thee, keep his blood unshed,
To return him safe unto my keep,
That these mortal arms may wrap around him,
And tears of gladness I shall weep.