Not yet for us may Christmas bring <br />Good-will to men, and peace; <br />In our dark sky no angels sing, <br />Not yet the great release <br />For men, when war shall cease. <br /> <br />So must the guns our carols make, <br />Our gifts must bullets be, <br />For us no Christmas bells shall wake; <br />These ruined homes shall see <br />No Christmas revelry. <br /> <br />In hardened hearts we fain would greet <br />The Babe at Christmas born, <br />But lo, He comes with pierced feet, <br />Wearing a crown of thorn,- <br />His side a spear has torn. <br /> <br />For tired eyes are all too dim, <br />Our hearts too full of pain, <br />Our ears too deaf to hear the hymn <br />Which angels sing in vain, <br />'The Christ is born again.' <br /> <br />O Jesus, pitiful, draw near, <br />That even we may see <br />The Little Child who knew not fear; <br />Thus would we picture Thee <br />Unmarred by agony. <br /> <br />O'er death and pain triumphant yet <br />Bid Thou Thy harpers play, <br />That we may hear them, and forget <br />Sorrow and all dismay, <br />And welcome Thee to stay <br />With us on Christmas Day.<br /><br />Cyril Winterbotham<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-christmas-prayer-from-the-trenches/
