I stood upon a hill,
In the fall of the year,
A lovely hill,
Soft and still green
With the breath of summer.
And the sun reached
Long golden fingers
Into the valley floor,
and lighted the autumn-painted trees
With the fires of God.
This was peace.
Over the ridge was war.
Ghastly and bloody;
The quick and the dead,
Whirling in a mad blasting conflict.
Ripping the skies
And the earth,
And the churning sea.
And our men were there,
They were fighting and dying;
Sweating in the desert
And the jungles;
Wheeling through the clouds;
Drawing their deadly beads
Under the choppy waves
Of a dozen seas.
This was war ...
Bitter and uncompromising;
Gloves off and no holds barred;
Kill or be killed;
Exterminate, stamp out
And smash forever
The threat to Freedom.
This was the dark
Hard road to Victory.
And I thought,
When Victory comes ... what then?
I looked up ...
And saw the face of God ...
Dear Lord, when Victory comes,
When the guns are silent,
And the bombs stop falling,
And the seas are clean
And fresh and safe;
When the dying
Shall scream no more,
And the starving are fed;
and soft green moss
Covers the tragic scars
Of ruined cities.
Then dear God,
Make us worthy of Victory.
Give us the strength
To keep our pledge
The world of power against power,
The world of breadlines
And bitterness,
A world
That would not let a man work,
A world that watched unmoved,
While the beasts of aggression
Swallowed the little people,
One by one;
A world the lived divided,
Where everyone locked his door
Against his neighbour,
Where the made were strong,
And the wise were weak ...
No, dear Lord .. never back to that.
That world is dead ...
It must stay forever dead.
Give us the strength
To take Victory,
Quietly and with gentle hands,
And mould a great new world
Of freedom and friendship ...
To take it like a garden,
Ripping the weeds
From the rich, Black earth,
Burning them in the fires of truth,
So that never again
Will there be a Hitler
Or a Mussolini;
A Himmler or Goebbels;
Never again a blitzkreig;
Never again the bitter treachery
Of Pearl Harbour;
Or the tragedy of Coventry;
Or blood running
in the hills of Bataan.
God give us strength
To set our own house in order ...
To open our doors in friendship;
To set all men free;
To live, not alone,
With the door locked,
And the windows barred,
Watching through the shutters,
The bitter struggles
Of the little people.
This time, dear God,
Let every nation take
Its rightful place,
In the world of men
Free and untrammelled ...
Let there be Commonwealths
But not Empires;
Bond of friendship
But not chains of bondage;
Let the strong be wise,
And the weak, protected,
Let the sun light
The darkest street,
And the rain of wisdom
Wash the slums of the earth
Into vague memories.
Let the wheat grow,
And the fruits ripen,
And dear Lord, let them be eaten,
Not left to rot or burned or buried,
While men starve for the want of them.
Give us strength and wisdom,
Truth, honesty and faith;
Maintain our anger
Against aggression,
And give us humility before you
Dear Lord.
Give us the power and the purpose
To make children laugh;
To give work to the men
Who fought for us;
And comfort to the women
Who suffered;
And peace to the aged ...
Hope to the devastated,
And release to the enslaved,
Food to the hungry,
And strength to the weak.
Let this hilltop be the world,
Soft green and eternally at peace,
With the leaves drinking life
|From the sun;
And the long blue horizon
Dusted with the smoke
Of a million peaceful hearths,
And the breeze vibrant and bright
With the laughter and song
Of a million voices
Dear Lord of heaven and earth,
Give us these strengths
When Victory comes ...
Guide us to peace,
Forever and ever,
Amen.
Written by Captain Dick Diespacker,
Radio Liaison Officer,
Canadian Army
World War II
