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The
War Prayer by Mark Twain |
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| It
was a time of great and exalting excitement. The country was up in arms,
the war was on, in every breast burned the holy fire of patriotism;
the drums were beating, the bands playing, the toy pistols popping,
the bunched firecrackers hissing and spluttering; on every hand and
far down the receding and fading spread of roofs and balconies a fluttering
wilderness of flags flashed in the sun; daily the young volunteers marched
down the wide avenue gay and fine in their new uniforms, the proud fathers
and mothers and sisters and sweethearts cheering them with voices choked
with happy emotion as they swung by; nightly the packed mass meetings
listened, panting, to patriot oratory which stirred the deepest deeps
of their hearts, and which they interrupted at briefest intervals with
cyclones of applause, the tears running down their cheeks the while;
in the churches the pastors preached devotion to flag and country, and
invoked the God of Battles beseeching His aid in our good cause in outpourings
of fervid eloquence which moved every listener. It was indeed a glad
and gracious time, and the half dozen rash spirits that ventured to
disapprove of the war and cast a doubt upon its righteousness straightway
got such a stern and angry warning that for their personal safety's
sake they quickly shrank out of sight and offended no more in that way. |
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| Sunday
morning came -- next day the battalions would leave for the front; the
church was filled; the volunteers were there, their young faces alight
with martial dreams -- visions of the stern advance, the gathering momentum,
the rushing charge, the flashing sabers, the flight of the foe, the
tumult, the enveloping smoke, the fierce pursuit, the surrender! Then
home from the war, bronzed heroes, welcomed, adored, submerged in golden
seas of glory! With the volunteers sat their dear ones, proud, happy,
and envied by the neighbors and friends who had no sons and brothers
to send forth to the field of honor, there to win for the flag, or,
failing, die the noblest of noble deaths. The service proceeded; a war
chapter from the Old Testament was read; the first prayer was said;
it was followed by an organ burst that shook the building, and with
one impulse the house rose, with glowing eyes and beating hearts, and
poured out that tremendous invocation. |
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| *God
the all-terrible! Thou who ordainest! Thunder thy clarion and lightning
thy sword!* |
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Then
came the "long" prayer. None could remember the like of it
for passionate pleading and moving and beautiful language. The burden
of its supplication was, that an ever-merciful and benignant Father
of us all would watch over our noble young soldiers, and aid, comfort,
and encourage them in their patriotic work; bless them, shield them
in the day of battle and the hour of peril, bear them in His mighty
hand, make them strong and confident, invincible in the bloody onset;
help them to crush the foe, grant to them and to their flag and country
imperishable honor and glory -- |
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An aged stranger entered and moved with slow and noiseless step up the main aisle, his eyes fixed upon the minister, his long body clothed in a robe that reached to his feet, his head bare, his white hair descending in a frothy cataract to his shoulders, his seamy face unnaturally pale, pale even to ghastliness. With all eyes following him and wondering, he made his silent way; without pausing, he ascended to the preacher's side and stood there waiting. With shut lids the preacher, unconscious of his presence, continued with his moving prayer, and at last finished it with the words, uttered in fervent appeal, "Bless our arms, grant us the victory, O Lord our God, Father and Protector of our land and flag!" |
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| The
stranger touched his arm, motioned him to step aside -- which the startled
minister did -- and took his place. During some moments he surveyed
the spellbound audience with solemn eyes, in which burned an uncanny
light; then in a deep voice he said: |
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| "I
come from the Throne -- bearing a message from Almighty God!" The
words smote the house with a shock; if the stranger perceived it he
gave no attention. "He has heard the prayer of His servant your
shepherd, and will grant it if such shall be your desire after I, His
messenger, shall have explained to you its import -- that is to say,
its full import. For it is like unto many of the prayers of men, in
that it asks for more than he who utters it is aware of -- except he
pause and think. |
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| "God's
servant and yours has prayed his prayer. Has he paused and taken thought?
Is it one prayer? No, it is two -- one uttered, the other not. Both
have reached the ear of Him Who heareth all supplications, the spoken
and the unspoken. Ponder this -- keep it in mind. If you would beseech
a blessing upon yourself, beware! lest without intent you invoke a curse
upon a neighbor at the same time. If you pray for the blessing of rain
upon your crop which needs it, by that act you are possibly praying
for a curse upon some neighbor's crop which may not need rain and can
be injured by it. |
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"You
have heard your servant's prayer -- the uttered part of it. I am commissioned
of God to put into words the other part of it -- that part which the
pastor -- and also you in your hearts -- fervently prayed silently.
And ignorantly and unthinkingly? God grant that it was so! You heard
these words: 'Grant us the victory, O Lord our God!' That is sufficient.
the *whole* of the uttered prayer is compact into those pregnant words.
Elaborations were not necessary. When you have prayed for victory you
have prayed for many unmentioned results which follow victory--*must*
follow it, cannot help but follow it. Upon the listening spirit of God
fell also the unspoken part of the prayer. He commandeth me to put it
into words. Listen! |
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"O
Lord our Father, our young patriots, idols of our hearts, go forth to
battle -- be Thou near them! With them -- in spirit -- we also go forth
from the sweet peace of our beloved firesides to smite the foe. O Lord
our God, help us to tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells;
help us to cover their smiling fields with the pale forms of their patriot
dead; help us to drown the thunder of the guns with the shrieks of their
wounded, writhing in pain; help us to lay waste their humble homes with
a hurricane of fire; help us to wring the hearts of their unoffending
widows with unavailing grief; help us to turn them out roofless with
little children to wander unfriended the wastes of their desolated land
in rags and hunger and thirst, sports of the sun flames of summer and
the icy winds of winter, broken in spirit, worn with travail, imploring
Thee for the refuge of the grave and denied it -- for our sakes who
adore Thee, Lord, blast their hopes, blight their lives, protract their
bitter pilgrimage, make heavy their steps, water their way with their
tears, stain the white snow with the blood of their wounded feet! We
ask it, in the spirit of love, of Him Who is the Source of Love, and
Who is the ever-faithful refuge and friend of all that are sore beset
and seek His aid with humble and contrite hearts. Amen. |
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(*After a pause.*) "Ye have prayed it; if ye still desire it, speak! The messenger of the Most High waits!" |
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It
was believed afterward that the man was a lunatic, because there was
no sense in what he said. |
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