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The War Prayer
by Mark Twain
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
sputtering; on every hand and far down the receding
and fading spreads 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 outpouring 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 faces alight with
material dreams-visions of a 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 heros,
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 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 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
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 His Who hearth all supplications, the
spoken and the unspoken. Ponder this - keep it in
mind. If you 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 by 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
the Father 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 their 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
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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