PRAYER

OF

MOST REVEREND FRANCIS J. SPELLMAN

Archbishop of New York

Delivered at Holy Name Religious and Patriotic

Gathering in the Polo Grounds, New York City,

October 5, 1943



Lord, lift this mighty host that is America;

Reconsecrate us in devotion to Thee.

Too oft have we forgot our heritage of

faith

—

The mess of pottage to our eyes was dear,

The gold within our coffers deadened us;

We, who by nature are between the earth

and sky;

Earthward have sunk, and drunk of miraged

visions.

But now, reborn,

We lift again to Thee our nation’s soul.

Behold, we are Thy wheat.

Nurtured beneath the sunshine of the plains;

We are Thy grapes from vineyards in the

sun,

And timber from Thy forests;

Ours are the iron sinews torn from earth’s

deep breast.

And oil from her rich arteries.

O God, we build anew and dedicate again

to Thee

The host and temple of America

—

Many we are, in space wide worlds apart.

But we are one today.

Made one by this, our common will:



That righteousness again shall walk among

the sons of men.

Now, welded of our pain,

We would again be what our forebears were.

Men who did worship Thee,

And mindful of Thy Fatherhood,

Could reach to brothers o’er the sea a

brother’s hand.

In every man we found Thy image then,

And, finding, wrote our nation’s creed,

A pledge that made us the Samaritan

To the oppressed and lowly of the earth.

In those far days, our soul was young and

clear

We opened arms to all who suffered wrong;

We bowed not, in our youth, however strong

the foe.

For we were strong in loyalty to Thee.

And strong in faith that all men should be

free

And worship Thee in liberty, as conscience

should direct.

And now.

Amidst the ruins of a world that strove

To prosper and to live apart from what was

bought



On Calvary by Christ, Thy Son

—

Now we come back by that well-trodden
way

That prodigals of every age have walked,

Back to our higher destiny—to Thee,
Our Father and our God.

And, kneeling in the valley of our grief,

Rededicate (both we who here must work

And those, our sons and brothers overseas,

Who still perhaps must die,)

Rededicate ourselves to the great task that

still remains,

That on the altar of our common victory.

Not to a god of war,

But to the Lord of Peace,

We give ourselves anew within the wounds

Of Him in Whom all men are one

—

For all may yet redeem their faulty past.

Held in these wounded Hands of Christ, our

Great Fligh Priest.

We are a single host of grateful love for
Thee,

A single will for universal peace for men,

A single soul of righteousness to come!

Lord, lift this mighty host that is America,

Reconsecrate us now in Thy Son’s Holy

Name. Amen.

Sullivan Bros.. Printers, Lowell