The Mahatma saddened, and frail from long days of fast
Pondered, was all that they fought for lost with the past.
Will his dear country, finally, over Gods divide?
He whispers to the darkening sky "Dear Lord abide"
Abide with me, fast falls the eventide
The darkness deepens, Lord, with me abide
When other helpers fail and comforts flee
Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me
Once, purposefully striding up the steps of the Empire,
With a staff for support and simple loincloth attire.
To demand freedom for us, our dear country,
With a song in his heart and a prayer for victory.
I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless
ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness
Where is death's sting? Where, grave, thy victory?
I triumph still, if Thou abide with me
At eventide now, this song resonates across Victory Square,
Bringing the promise of hope to Indians everywhere.
Chasing away the dark of despair, in time to a soldier's beat,
My country for all religions; his prayer will never retreat.
Be Thou Thyself before my closing eyes
Shine through the gloom and point me to the skies
Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee
In life, in death, o Lord, abide with me
Alternate verses in this poem is the hymn Abide with me by Henry F. Lyte,1847
Topic(s) of this poem: mahatma gandhi
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.