(From Valor magazine, May, 1957)

Call me, O Lord, and
hear my answer firm
Give me the bleakest trail, the darkest post;
Send me upon the roughest way, up highest steep,
Name me to do the thing I dread the most!

Take up the cry I uttered in my youth
When blood and heart were hot and courage rash;
Send me where Death smiles like a mother kind,
Where I walk safely through the claws that gash.

Hear Thou my prayer, Lord, prayed in faith,
That Thou shalt make my life-path sparse of gold,
That I may pay my way with winter's wage,
Strong-joyed to know that I can best the cold.

So pray I now the prayer that few men pray,
Not for Thy largess but for steel of soul,
Thine is the brevet put upon mine heart:
That I shall never reach receding goal!

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