I am not yet born; O fill me with strength against those who

"I am not yet born; O fill me with strength against those who would freeze my humanity." Thus cries Louis MacNeice, the poet of the twentieth century, in his haunting prayer-poem Prayer Before Birth. He spoke in the shadow of war, in an age of machines, bombs, and rising tyrannies. His words are not the calm meditation of one secure, but the desperate plea of a soul that has glimpsed the cruelty of the world and trembles at what awaits it. In this cry is the universal longing of all humanity: to be preserved in dignity, to be guarded against those forces—be they men, systems, or fears—that would turn the living heart into ice.

The ancients, too, knew of such fears. They saw that societies, when ruled by tyrants, often became frozen places where love, mercy, and truth could no longer breathe. The poet’s words echo the laments of prophets and sages who warned their people not to allow hardness of heart, for to lose compassion is to lose humanity itself. MacNeice, like them, prays for strength, not for conquest, but for preservation—the strength to remain human in a world that would strip men of tenderness, freedom, and the sacred flame of conscience.

His prayer recalls the fate of countless souls throughout history who faced forces that sought to freeze their humanity. Consider the prisoners of the Nazi camps, who endured horrors designed not only to kill the body but to break the spirit, to reduce human beings to numbers, to erase dignity itself. And yet, even there, men and women found ways to remain human: by sharing bread, by whispering songs, by dying with dignity. In their resistance lies the answer to MacNeice’s plea—that with inner strength, the flame of humanity can endure even in the coldest night.

MacNeice’s cry is also prophetic for every age. For even outside of war, humanity is constantly threatened by forces that seek to freeze it. Greed turns hearts to stone, technology without conscience drains empathy, prejudice blinds the eyes of mercy. The world may not place us in camps or under bombs, but it offers its own subtle chains: apathy, indifference, selfishness. Against these, too, we must pray as MacNeice prayed: for strength to remain tender, to remain human, to keep compassion alive.

And yet, there is also a heroic power in these words. For to ask for strength before birth is to declare that life itself is not meant to be passive, but a battle. Each soul enters the world as a warrior-in-waiting, destined to face trials that will test its humanity. MacNeice’s plea is thus not one of despair, but of readiness: he knows the coldness he will face, and he longs to be armed, not with weapons of steel, but with the inner fortitude to resist cruelty with compassion, hatred with love, deathliness with life.

The lesson is this: your greatest enemy is not the one who wounds your body, but the one who would harden your heart. To lose humanity is to lose the essence of life itself. Therefore, cultivate daily the strength to remain gentle in a harsh world, hopeful in a despairing one, compassionate in a selfish one. This is no easy task, and it requires prayer, vigilance, and the courage to stand against the freezing winds of cruelty and apathy.

Practically, this means living with conscious acts of humanity. It means choosing kindness when indifference tempts you, defending the weak when power tempts you to ignore them, keeping your heart alive with gratitude, music, prayer, and beauty. For every time you act with compassion, you defy the cold, you prove MacNeice’s plea fulfilled: you remain human in a world that often forgets how.

So let his words be passed down: “O fill me with strength against those who would freeze my humanity.” Teach your children that their greatest task is not merely to survive, but to guard their souls against hardness. Remind your companions that the true victory of man is not to dominate, but to remain human. And whisper it to yourself, in dark times and in bright: that your heart must never turn to stone, but remain alive with the warmth of love, courage, and mercy.