For some reason the words to the hymn, "Faith of Our Fathers" aka "The Recessional" by Kipling, have always generated a combination of melancholy, joy and hope; what Neil Maxwell would call, "Sweet Sorrow". I first came aware of this poem when reading, "Beware of Pride" by President Ezra Taft Benson.
To many, this poem seemed to foretell the fate of Brittan as less and less people seem to remember their God. Of course, this same warning was repeated throughout the Book of Mormon so explicitly that it can be considered a major underlying theme.
Regardless of where you kneel on whatever day you choose, the important thing is that the moral conduct generated by a loving God be placed firmly in your heart.
Recessional
June 22, 1897
Rudyard Kipling. b. 1865
GOD of our fathers, known of old—
Lord of our far-flung battle-line—
Beneath whose awful Hand we hold
Dominion over palm and pine—
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget, lest we forget!
The tumult and the shouting dies—
The captains and the kings depart—
Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,
An humble and a contrite heart.
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget, lest we forget!
Far-call'd our navies melt away—
On dune and headland sinks the fire—
Lo, all our pomp of yesterday
Is one with Nineveh and Tyre!
Judge of the Nations, spare us yet,
Lest we forget, lest we forget!
If, drunk with sight of power, we loose
Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe—
Such boasting as the Gentiles use
Or lesser breeds without the Law—
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget, lest we forget!
For heathen heart that puts her trust
In reeking tube and iron shard—
All valiant dust that builds on dust,
And guarding calls not Thee to guard—
For frantic boast and foolish word,
Thy Mercy on Thy People, Lord!
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