I KNIT, I knit, I pray, I pray.

My knitting is my rosary.

And as I weave the stitches gray,

I murmur pray'rs continually.

Gray loop, a sigh, gray knot, a wish,

Gray row a chain of wistful pray'r,

For thus to sit and knit and pray--

This is of war the woman's share.

Arid so I knit, and thus I pray,

And keep repeating night and day,

May God lead safely those dear feet

That soon shall wear the web of gray.

Now and again a selfish strain?

But surely woman heart must yearn,

And pray sometimes that she may hear

The footsteps that return.

But if, O God, Not that.

But if it must be sacrifice complete,

Then I will trust that afterward

Thou wilt guide home those precious feet.