This Sunday is Remembrance SundayHow long, O Lord, how long, before the floodOf crimson-welling carnage shall abate?From sodden plains in West and East, the bloodOf kindly men steams up in mists of hate,Polluting Thy clean air; and nations greatIn reputation of the arts that bindThe world with hopes of heaven, sink to the stateOf brute barbarians, whose ferocious mindGloats o’er the bloody havoc of their kind,Not knowing love or mercy. Lord, how longShall Satan in high places lead the blindTo battle for the passions of the strong?Oh, touch Thy children’s hearts, that they may knowHate their most hateful, pride their deadliest foe.Robert Palmer How long, O LordAt dawn the ridge emerges massed and dunIn the wild purple of the glow’ring sun,Smouldering through spouts of dri