Readings
The War Prayer
by Mark Twain
(This prayer was written in 1904-05, it is believed, and found
after Twain’s death in his unpublished manuscripts. It was
first published in 1923 in Albert Bigelow Paine's anthology, Europe
and Elsewhere. The story is in response to a particular war, namely
the Philippine-American War of 1899-1902, which Twain opposed.)
It was a time of great and exalting excitement. The country was
up in arms, the war was on, in every breast burned the holy fire
of patriotism; the drums were beating, the bands playing, the toy
pistols popping, the bunched firecrackers hissing and spluttering;
on every hand and far down the receding and fading spread of roofs
and balconies a fluttering wilderness of flags flashed in the sun;
daily the young volunteers marched down the wide avenue gay and
fine in their new uniforms, the proud fathers and mothers and sisters
and sweethearts cheering them with voices choked with happy emotion
as they swung by; nightly the packed mass meetings listened, panting,
to patriot oratory which stirred the deepest deeps of their hearts,
and which they interrupted at briefest intervals with cyclones of
applause, the tears running down their cheeks the while; in the
churches the pastors preached devotion to flag and country, and
invoked the God of Battles beseeching His aid in our good cause
in outpourings of fervid eloquence which moved every listener. It
was indeed a glad and gracious time, and the half dozen rash spirits
that ventured to disapprove of the war and cast a doubt upon its
righteousness straightway got such a stern and angry warning that
for their personal safety's sake they quickly shrank out of sight
and offended no more in that way.
Sunday morning came -- next day the battalions would leave for
the front; the church was filled; the volunteers were there, their
young faces alight with martial dreams -- visions of the stern advance,
the gathering momentum, the rushing charge, the flashing sabers,
the flight of the foe, the tumult, the enveloping smoke, the fierce
pursuit, the surrender! Then home from the war, bronzed heroes,
welcomed, adored, submerged in golden seas of glory! With the volunteers
sat their dear ones, proud, happy, and envied by the neighbors and
friends who had no sons and brothers to send forth to the field
of honor, there to win for the flag, or, failing, die the noblest
of noble deaths. The service proceeded; a war chapter from the Old
Testament was read; the first prayer was said; it was followed by
an organ burst that shook the building, and with one impulse the
house rose, with glowing eyes and beating hearts, and poured out
that tremendous invocation
*God the all-terrible! Thou who ordainest! Thunder thy clarion
and lightning thy sword!*
Then came the "long" prayer. None could remember the
like of it for passionate pleading and moving and beautiful language.
The burden of its supplication was, that an ever-merciful and benignant
Father of us all would watch over our noble young soldiers, and
aid, comfort, and encourage them in their patriotic work; bless
them, shield them in the day of battle and the hour of peril, bear
them in His mighty hand, make them strong and confident, invincible
in the bloody onset; help them to crush the foe, grant to them and
to their flag and country imperishable honor and glory –
An aged stranger entered and moved with slow and noiseless step
up the main aisle, his eyes fixed upon the minister, his long body
clothed in a robe that reached to his feet, his head bare, his white
hair descending in a frothy cataract to his shoulders, his seamy
face unnaturally pale, pale even to ghastliness. With all eyes following
him and wondering, he made his silent way; without pausing, he ascended
to the preacher's side and stood there waiting. With shut lids the
preacher, unconscious of his presence, continued with his moving
prayer, and at last finished it with the words, uttered in fervent
appeal, "Bless our arms, grant us the victory, O Lord our God,
Father and Protector of our land and flag!" The stranger touched
his arm, motioned him to step aside -- which the startled minister
did -- and took his place. During some moments he surveyed the spellbound
audience with solemn eyes, in which burned an uncanny light; then
in a deep voice he said:
"I come from the Throne -- bearing a message from Almighty
God!" The words smote the house with a shock; if the stranger
perceived it he gave no attention. "He has heard the prayer
of His servant your shepherd, and will grant it if such shall be
your desire after I, His messenger, shall have explained to you
its import -- that is to say, its full import. For it is like unto
many of the prayers of men, in that it asks for more than he who
utters it is aware of -- except he pause and think.
"God's servant and yours has prayed his prayer. Has he paused
and taken thought? Is it one prayer? No, it is two -- one uttered,
the other not. Both have reached the ear of Him Who heareth all
supplications, the spoken and the unspoken. Ponder this -- keep
it in mind. If you would beseech a blessing upon yourself, beware!
lest without intent you invoke a curse upon a neighbor at the same
time. If you pray for the blessing of rain upon your crop which
needs it, by that act you are possibly praying for a curse upon
some neighbor's crop which may not need rain and can be injured
by it.
"You have heard your servant's prayer -- the uttered part
of it. I am commissioned of God to put into words the other part
of it -- that part which the pastor -- and also you in your hearts
-- fervently prayed silently. And ignorantly and unthinkingly? God
grant that it was so! You heard these words: 'Grant us the victory,
O Lord our God!' That is sufficient. the *whole* of the uttered
prayer is compact into those pregnant words. Elaborations were not
necessary. When you have prayed for victory you have prayed for
many unmentioned results which follow victory--*must* follow it,
cannot help but follow it. Upon the listening spirit of God fell
also the unspoken part of the prayer. He commandeth me to put it
into words. Listen!
"O Lord our Father, our young patriots, idols of our hearts,
go forth to battle -- be Thou near them! With them -- in spirit
-- we also go forth from the sweet peace of our beloved firesides
to smite the foe. O Lord our God, help us to tear their soldiers
to bloody shreds with our shells; help us to cover their smiling
fields with the pale forms of their patriot dead; help us to drown
the thunder of the guns with the shrieks of their wounded, writhing
in pain; help us to lay waste their humble homes with a hurricane
of fire; help us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows
with unavailing grief; help us to turn them out roofless with little
children to wander unfriended the wastes of their desolated land
in rags and hunger and thirst, sports of the sun flames of summer
and the icy winds of winter, broken in spirit, worn with travail,
imploring Thee for the refuge of the grave and denied it -- for
our sakes who adore Thee, Lord, blast their hopes, blight their
lives, protract their bitter pilgrimage, make heavy their steps,
water their way with their tears, stain the white snow with the
blood of their wounded feet! We ask it, in the spirit of love, of
Him Who is the Source of Love, and Who is the ever-faithful refuge
and friend of all that are sore beset and seek His aid with humble
and contrite hearts. Amen.
(*After a pause.*) "Ye have prayed it; if ye still desire
it, speak! The messenger of the Most High waits!"
It was believed afterward that the man was a lunatic, because there
was no sense in what he said.
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