The Prayer of the ToilersBy Rose Mills Powers(In “The Survey.”)
By Rose Mills Powers
(In “The Survey.”)
Lord of the peaceful Toilers, hark to the toiler’s plea:The kings of the earth assemble, pawns in their hands are we.Now as the battle thickens, out of the blood and flame,Lord of the Toilers, hear us; forgive us who play the game.Lord of the cheerful reapers, the harvest was fair and good.Hard by our quiet hearth stones, the yellowing wheat fields stood,But the scythe has become a sabre in meadow and glebe and glen.Lord of the Toilers, hear us; forgive as we cut down men!Lord of the cunning craftsmen: The vision of Thee a lad,Working with plane and measure, kept us content and glad;Now, as we charge, red-handed, wielding the tools that kill,Lord of the Toilers, hear us: Forgive us the blood we spill.Lord of the visioning learners: out of our cloistered halls,Parchment and tomb abandoned, we march when the bugle calls,Death and destruction hurling, havoc to babes and wives,Lord of the Toilers, hear us: Forgive us these broken lives.Lord of the keen-eyed traders: our vessels went up and down,Our shores were alive with traffic in village and mart and town,But our harbors are red with slaughter, the markets in ruins lie,Lord of the Toilers, hear us; forgive as we strike and die!Lord of the peaceful Toilers, husbandman, craftsman, clerk,Student and sage and trader, torn from the world’s good work,Dead in the King’s arena, pawns who were not to blame,Lord of the Toilers, hear us: end now the awful game!
Lord of the peaceful Toilers, hark to the toiler’s plea:The kings of the earth assemble, pawns in their hands are we.Now as the battle thickens, out of the blood and flame,Lord of the Toilers, hear us; forgive us who play the game.Lord of the cheerful reapers, the harvest was fair and good.Hard by our quiet hearth stones, the yellowing wheat fields stood,But the scythe has become a sabre in meadow and glebe and glen.Lord of the Toilers, hear us; forgive as we cut down men!Lord of the cunning craftsmen: The vision of Thee a lad,Working with plane and measure, kept us content and glad;Now, as we charge, red-handed, wielding the tools that kill,Lord of the Toilers, hear us: Forgive us the blood we spill.Lord of the visioning learners: out of our cloistered halls,Parchment and tomb abandoned, we march when the bugle calls,Death and destruction hurling, havoc to babes and wives,Lord of the Toilers, hear us: Forgive us these broken lives.Lord of the keen-eyed traders: our vessels went up and down,Our shores were alive with traffic in village and mart and town,But our harbors are red with slaughter, the markets in ruins lie,Lord of the Toilers, hear us; forgive as we strike and die!Lord of the peaceful Toilers, husbandman, craftsman, clerk,Student and sage and trader, torn from the world’s good work,Dead in the King’s arena, pawns who were not to blame,Lord of the Toilers, hear us: end now the awful game!
Lord of the peaceful Toilers, hark to the toiler’s plea:The kings of the earth assemble, pawns in their hands are we.Now as the battle thickens, out of the blood and flame,Lord of the Toilers, hear us; forgive us who play the game.
Lord of the peaceful Toilers, hark to the toiler’s plea:
The kings of the earth assemble, pawns in their hands are we.
Now as the battle thickens, out of the blood and flame,
Lord of the Toilers, hear us; forgive us who play the game.
Lord of the cheerful reapers, the harvest was fair and good.Hard by our quiet hearth stones, the yellowing wheat fields stood,But the scythe has become a sabre in meadow and glebe and glen.Lord of the Toilers, hear us; forgive as we cut down men!
Lord of the cheerful reapers, the harvest was fair and good.
Hard by our quiet hearth stones, the yellowing wheat fields stood,
But the scythe has become a sabre in meadow and glebe and glen.
Lord of the Toilers, hear us; forgive as we cut down men!
Lord of the cunning craftsmen: The vision of Thee a lad,Working with plane and measure, kept us content and glad;Now, as we charge, red-handed, wielding the tools that kill,Lord of the Toilers, hear us: Forgive us the blood we spill.
Lord of the cunning craftsmen: The vision of Thee a lad,
Working with plane and measure, kept us content and glad;
Now, as we charge, red-handed, wielding the tools that kill,
Lord of the Toilers, hear us: Forgive us the blood we spill.
Lord of the visioning learners: out of our cloistered halls,Parchment and tomb abandoned, we march when the bugle calls,Death and destruction hurling, havoc to babes and wives,Lord of the Toilers, hear us: Forgive us these broken lives.
Lord of the visioning learners: out of our cloistered halls,
Parchment and tomb abandoned, we march when the bugle calls,
Death and destruction hurling, havoc to babes and wives,
Lord of the Toilers, hear us: Forgive us these broken lives.
Lord of the keen-eyed traders: our vessels went up and down,Our shores were alive with traffic in village and mart and town,But our harbors are red with slaughter, the markets in ruins lie,Lord of the Toilers, hear us; forgive as we strike and die!
Lord of the keen-eyed traders: our vessels went up and down,
Our shores were alive with traffic in village and mart and town,
But our harbors are red with slaughter, the markets in ruins lie,
Lord of the Toilers, hear us; forgive as we strike and die!
Lord of the peaceful Toilers, husbandman, craftsman, clerk,Student and sage and trader, torn from the world’s good work,Dead in the King’s arena, pawns who were not to blame,Lord of the Toilers, hear us: end now the awful game!
Lord of the peaceful Toilers, husbandman, craftsman, clerk,
Student and sage and trader, torn from the world’s good work,
Dead in the King’s arena, pawns who were not to blame,
Lord of the Toilers, hear us: end now the awful game!