HOPE of the Nations, lift thy stricken heart. <br />Thyself art Sorrow, and to thee the cry <br />Of battle-anguish comes more piercingly <br />Than even in those months of sneer and smart, <br />When thou so steadfastly didst bear thy part, <br />True Champion of Peace. And now, when high <br />The war-storm rages, when horne's darlings die <br />By mangled thousands, lift thy stricken heart <br />For a white shield of mercy, torch that throws <br />Its reconciling gleam across the seas. <br />O thou in love and grief pre-eminent, <br />Divine shall be thy comfort to appease <br />These bleeding Christian armies, sudden foes <br />That slaughter in a fierce astonishment.<br /><br />Katharine Lee Bates<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-our-president-2/
