My shoulders ache beneath my pack <br />(Lie easier, Cross, upon His back). <br />I march with feet that burn and smart <br />(Tread, Holy Feet, upon my heart). <br />Men shout at me who may not speak <br />(They scourged Thy back and smote Thy cheek). <br />I may not lift a hand to clear <br />My eyes of salty drops that sear. <br />(Then shall my fickle soul forget <br />Thy agony of Bloody Sweat?) <br />My rifle hand is stiff and numb <br />(From Thy pierced palm red rivers come). <br />Lord, Thou didst suffer more for me <br />Than all the hosts of land and sea. <br />So let me render back again <br />This millionth of Thy gift. Amen.<br /><br />Alfred Joyce Kilmer<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/prayer-of-a-soldier-in-france-2/
