Poem Hunter
(1859-1919 / England)


GOD who created me
   Nimble and light of limb,
In three elements free,
   To run, to ride, to swim:
Not when the sense is dim,
   But now from the heart of joy,
I would remember Him:
   Take the thanks of a boy.

Jesu, King and Lord,
   Whose are my foes to fight,
Gird me with Thy sword
   Swift and sharp and bright.
Thee would I serve if I might;
   And conquer if I can,
From day-dawn till night,
   Take the strength of a man.

Spirit of Love and Truth,
   Breathing in grosser clay,
The light and flame of youth,
   Delight of men in the fray,
Wisdom in strength's decay;
   From pain, strife, wrong to be free,
This best gift I pray,
   Take my spirit to Thee.

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