Songs of the Silent World, and Other Poems Part 12

VI.

A PRAYER.

MATINS.

Lord, Thou hast promised. Lo! I give Thee back Thine own great Word. Keep it. I summon Thee.

Keep it as G.o.d can, not as men do. See, Great G.o.d! who art to us the awful Truth Whereby we live, and move, and know the true-- I ask Thee to be true unto Thyself.

There is a soul that has not sinned unto The death. I pray for it. To such as seek For such a one, O Power invisible!

O Mystery and Mercy! Thou hast said Thou hearkenest. I dare remind Thee, G.o.d.

I dare appeal unto Thine honor. Hear!

Fulfill Thy pledge to me.

G.o.d, G.o.d! Great G.o.d!

I pour my soul out, dash it down awaste Like water, as I would my life, to save This other one. I light my words with fire, Like f.a.gots scorching all my shrinking heart.

So would I walk in fire with these my feet Of flesh, if that could melt this frozen heart I pray for.

Thou who listenest! Dumb G.o.d!

Had I Thy dreadful power to turn the souls Of men as they were rivers in Thy hand, Then would I have this n.o.ble one. I would Not lose its loyalty. I tell Thee, Lord, If I had made it, then it sure should love And honor me.

Hearken to me! Oh, save!

Give me mine answer! Save!

Great G.o.d, I summon Thee! I summon Thee!

Father, I am Thy child. If I have asked too much, Or asked or longed amiss in any wise, Or read awry Thy Word mysterious, Or made one cry unworthy of a child, I pray Thee to deny me all I ask Unto my asking, and rebuke me so.

And if Thou savest, Lord, dear Lord, _dear Lord_!

Then let it be because some worthier Than I, did pray.....

AN ACKNOWLEDGMENT.

For the faith that is not broken

By the burden of the day; For the word that is not spoken (Dearest words are slow to say); For the golden draught unproffered To the thirst that thirsteth on; For the hand that is not offered When the struggling strength is gone; For the st.u.r.dy heart that will not Make a pauper of my need; Friend, I mean sometime to thank thee, From my soul, in truth and deed.

Wait! Some day, when I am braver, I will do so--say so. Now (Oh! be tender!) I am tired; I have forgotten how.

HYMN.

FOR A BROTHER'S INSTALLATION.

Lord, are there any stones upon the way, That tear Thy bleeding feet?

If our weak hands can move them from Thy path, Give us that duty sweet.

Is there, O patient and pathetic Face!

One thorn upon Thy brow That we can pluck from out Thy cruel crown?

For we would do it now.

Is there a deed so difficult for us That none but Thou canst ask?

Thine asking be our answering. Lo! swift Be ours that happy task.

Lord, hast Thou left Thy hungry in the world For us to find, to feed?

Sharper the hungers of the soul. Give us Nutrition for that need.

And hast Thou prisoners unvisited, Whose woes our care should tell?

There is a deeper prison of the heart; Help us to find that cell.

Is there a mourner dear to Thee, whom we Have left uncomforted?

Yet still through lonelier loneliness, the heart Bereft of Thee, is led.

O world of common, human cries! and calls Of souls in direst need!

To meet ye, mighty were the love that sought To take the Master's speed.

Give us that love, dear G.o.d, who gave to us To bear His loving name.

Give us that sacred speed to keep the step That strikes with His the same.

Waves of one tide, this people be! and flow Straight sh.o.r.eward to Thy will.

White as a dove, upon them, now descend Thy Spirit, strong and still.

Thy blessings on their future rest and brood, --The brightest, lip can tell,-- In home and heart, in faith and fact, O best Of daily mercy! dwell.

With those who summon--trusting it to lead Their feet to walk Christ's way-- The voice of him on whose bowed head, I call The grace of G.o.d to-day.

ANSWERED.

Why did I never sing a song to you?

Dearest! To you again, behold the question start.

To mine own pulses have I ever sung? Or do I read a rhyme unto my beating heart?

WESTWARD.

My thoughts like waves creep up, creep on, How patient is the sea!

How shall we climb--the tide and I-- Up to the hills and thee?

Were waters free as winds, to go Where mood or need might be, They could but find the sky, above The canon as the sea.