A PRAYER.
FOR MY FRIEND, MAJOR W. C. CAPERS.
'T is on the eve of battle now,The God of war with shadowed brow,Each soldier calls to keep his vow— Then strengthen them, our Father!
Among them moves a manly form,Whose heart is throbbing true and warmHe, fearless, marks the coming storm— Oh! be his shield, our Father!
When 'mid the fast-approaching strife.Where every gale with death is rife,He, for his country, risks his life, Oh! guard him then, our Father!
Though 'neath the missiles of the foeHis comrades be in death laid low,
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