God of our Fathers, at Whose call,
We now before Thine altar fall;
Whose grace can make our Order strong,
Through love of right and hate of wrong,
We pray thee in They pity shield
Our Brethren on the battlefield.

Asleep, beneath Thine ample dome,
With many a tender dream of home;
Or charging, in the dust and glare,
With bullets hurtling through the air,
We pray Thee in Thy pity shield
Our Brethren on the battlefield.

O soon, Thou Blessed Prince of Peace,
Bring in the days when War shall cease,
And men and brother shall unite
To fill the world with love and light,
We pray thee in Thy pity shield
Our Brethren on the battlefield.

ANONYMOUS