Dread of the devastation wrought by a bitter war.
Fear for its flower, and promise fed to a greedy maw.
Lord, dry the springs of hatred and check this stream of death.
Man’s burning lust of power quench with Thy potent breath.
Wielder of mighty waters, ward of the tiny stream;
Source of the sun’s effulgence and of the moon’s pale beam;
God of the sheltered seedling and the surrendered grain,
Grant that to realms war-deluged Thy Kingdom Come again.