Clarksville chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 186?-1872, 1871-03-04
THE PRAYER OF TIE SOUTH.


III FATHER RYAN.
IN the following poem every noble heart
Will recognize lie ecypress-crowned poet OF
the south IN his finished measure. We
'ieeply gratified that Father Ryan has hon
ored us by sending II to- be- published, first,
In our coluinns.-Freemdn' Journal.
My brow IL bent beneath n heavy rod
My face In wan and white with many
woes,
But viii lift my poor, chained hands to
And for my children pray, and for my
foes.
Beside the grave where thousands lowiy
kneel-and weeping for reach slaughter
turn my gaze TO my own sunny sky.
And pray, oh! Father, may Thy Win be
done!
My heart is filled with anguish, deep and
My hopes aie buried with my chiidren's
My Joys have fied-my tears are flowing
In whom, save Thee, our Father, shall
All! I forgot Thee, Father, long and oft.
When was happy, rich, and proud, and
But conquered now, and crushed, ! look
And sorrow leads me, Father, back to
Thee.
Amid the wrecks that mark the foeman's
path
I kneel-and wailing DER my glories
still each thought of hate, each throb of
And wisper-Father! let Thy VIII be
done.
Pity me, Father of the desointe!
Alas! my burdens are so hard to bear;
Look down In mercy on my wrelched fate,
And keep me, guard me with Thy loving
care.
Pity me, Father, for His holy sake,
Whose broken heart bled ut the feet OF
Grief,
That hearts of earth. wherever they shall
Might gO to His and find n sure relief.
All, me! how dark Is this brief eclipse:
Or ~ II Might, with no To-morrow's sun?
oh! Father! Father! with my pale, sad
And satlder heart, / pray. Thy VIII be
done.
My homes are joyless. and million mourn
here many met In joys forever flown:
whose hearts were light, are burdened
Where n,any smiled. but one is left to
mourn.
And all! the widows walls, the orphans
cries,
Are morning hymn, and vesper chant, to
me:
And groans of men. and sounds OF womens
Comningle, Father, with my prayer to
Thee.
beneath my feet-ten thousand children
Oh how love each known and name
less one!
Above their dust bow my crowniess head,
Ana nurihur, Father! still, Thy VIII be
All! Father, Thou did'st deck my own loved
With all bright charms, and beautiful
But foemen came, and with ruthless
hand,
Spread ruin, wreck and desolation here.
Girdled with gloom-of all my brightness
shorn,
And garmentcd with grief, kiss Thy rod
Anu TURN my hce, with tearsa all wet ana
To catch one smile OF pity from my God
Around me blight, where all before was
And so much lost--aias! and nothing
won!
Save this-thut l can lean ON wreck and
tomb,
And wrep-and weeping pray, Thy VIII
be done.
And oh! It's hard to say-but said, It's
sweet
The words are bitter, but they hold n
\ balm that heals the wounds OF my de-
feut,
And iuils my sorrows into holy calm.
II Is the prayer of Prayers-and how 1t
brings,
When heard in Heaven, peace and hope
tn me;
When Jesus prayed it, did not angels
wings
Gleanl mid the darkness OF Gethscmano?
My children, Father, Thy forgiveness need.
Alas! their hearts have only place Ior
tears;
Forgive them, Father, ev'ry wrongful deed.
Aud every SIN, OF those four mournful
And give them strength to bear their
boundleSs loss,
And rom their hearts takecvery thought
And while they climb their Calvary with
their cross,
Oh! help them, Father, to endure its
weight.
And for my dead, my Father. may pray?
All signs may soothe, but prayer slall
sOothc me more
keep eternal wntci above their clay
Oh rest their souls, my Father. im-
plore
Forgive my foes-'hey know not what they
Forgive them all the tears they made me
shed:
Forgive ihem--though my noblest sons
And bless thcu,-though they curse my
poor, dear dead.
oh may my woes he each n carrier dove.
with swim, white wings, that, bathing In
my tears,
VIII bear Thee, Father, all my prayers of
love,
And bri"g me peace in all my doubts and
fears,
Father, kneel mid ruin. wreck and grave
y desert waste, where all was erst 81 fair
Aud for my children and my foes cravo
Pity and pardon-Father! hear my pray
er.