ONCE I knelt in my shining mail
Here by Thine altar all the night.
My heart beat proudly, my prayer rose loudly,
But I looked to my armor to win the fight.
God, my lance was a broken reed,
My mace a toy for a child's delight.
My helm is battered, my shield is shattered,
I am stiff with wounds, and I lost the fight.
Low I kneel through the night again,
Hear my prayer, if my prayer be right!
Take for Thy token my proud heart broken.
God, guide my arm! I go back to the fight.
