Rest

Lines found under the pillow of a soldier who was lying dead in an hospital near Port Royal, South Carolina.
I lay me down to sleep
With little thought or care,
Whether my waking find
Me here or there.

A weary aching head,
That only asks to rest
Unquestioning upon
Thy faithful breast.

My good right hand forgets
Its cunning now,
To march the weary march
I know not how.

I am not eager, bold, nor strong,
All that is past;
I’m ready, not to do,
At last, at last.

My half day’s work is done,
And this is all my part,
I give my patient God
A patient heart:

And grasp His banner still,
The’ all its blue be dim,
These stripes no less than stars
Lead after Him.