A Welsh Coal Miner’s Prayer

Each dawn as we rise,
Lord, we know all too well,
We face only one thing –
A pit filled with hell.

To scratch out a living
The best that we can,
But deep in the heart,
Lies the soul of a man.

With black covered faces,
And hard calloused hands,
We work the dark tunnels,
Unable to stand.

To labour and toil
As we harvest the coals,
We silently pray,
"Lord, please harvest our souls".

By W. Calvert