Chaplain to the Forces

Ambassadors of Christ you go

Up to the ve­ry gates of hell

Through fog of pow­der

storm of shell

To speak your Mas­ter’s mes­sage: Lo

The Prince of Peace is with you still

His peace be with you

His good­will.

It is not small

your priest­hood’s price

To be a man and yet stand by

To hold your life whilst oth­ers die

To bless

not share the sac­ri­fice

To watch the strife and take no part—

You with the fire at your heart.

But yours

for our great cap­tain Christ

To know the sweat of ago­ny

The dark­ness of Geth­se­ma­ne

In ang­uish for these souls un­priced.

Viceregent of God’s pi­ty you

A sword must pierce your own soul through.

In the pale gleam of new-born day

Apart in some tree-sha­dowed place

Your al­tar but a pack­ing case

Rude as the shed where Ma­ry lay

Your sanc­tu­ary the rain-drenched sod

You bring the kneel­ing sol­dier

God.

As sen­ti­nel you guard the gate

’Twixt life and death

and un­to death

Speed the brave soul whose fail­ing breath

Shudders not at the grip of fate

But an­swers

gall­ant to the end

Christ is the Word—and I His friend.

Then God go with you

priest of God

For all is well and shall be well.

What though you tread the roads of hell?

With nail-pierced feet these ways He trod

Above the ang­uish and the loss

Still floats the en­sign of His cross.