And so my own paltry prayers are not faulty;
To change the world in which they’re hurled,
May not avail; to change me they will prevail
And I will sail the sea and be better than me
As I am now, for I bow before the ancient lore
Of tremendous Spirit, the stupendous numinous,
If face of horrendous hell; now sounds the bell
Of war of good and evil, such food for the gods,
But have I more in store to change than myself?
And if I proceed and succeed in changing me,
Then I shall not rot in grave having had no one
To save, and in the end, the world will bend
To all the prayers I’ve prayed even as I stayed
Upon my knees, never strayed, sword of Spirit
Firmly in hand to battle frenzied dæmonic band!
Then shall this one truly rest in heavenly peace.