When I had shut the book, I said: And many more: it doth not us beseem, Is there not hung a ladder in our sky? But where is found a prayer for me; My heart is sick, and full of strife. I heard one whisper with departing breath, 'Suffer us not, for any pains of death, To fall from thee.' HE REMEMBERETH. DEAR Lord, of all the words of thine Which for our comfort ring and shine Through sacred air, on sacred page, From sacred lips in every age, To me, No one has brought such blessed cheer A pure heart wrung with sorrow came, "For he remembereth our frame." Not merely that he can forgive, To fathers' yearning hearts is known; O God of love, O King of peace, Remember, Lord, thy works of old, SIR HENRY WILLIAMS BAKER. OUR PRAYERS. ART thou weary of our selfish prayers? Forever crying, "Help me, save me, Lord!" We stay fenced in by petty fears and cares, Nor hear the song outside, nor join its vast accord. And yet the truest praying is a psalm: Is not the need of other souls our need? Still are we saying, "Teach us how to pray"? 1787. THE WORTH OF PRAYER. And prayer the rising flame. It gives the burdened spirit ease, And soothes the troubled breast; Yields comfort to the mourners here, And to the weary rest. When God inclines the heart to pray, The humble suppliant cannot fail My secret sanctuary be From ills unknown. Thou knowest, Lord, the hidden cross None else may see ; For thou appointest every grief That chastens me ! And I may plead with thee, my God, That this thy discipline of love I need not fear to tell thee all, Of conflict, longing, vague unrest, And thou wilt lead my weary feet Through paths of everlasting peace, Lord! dwell within my heart, and fill Its emptiness; Set thou its hope above the reach Of earthliness; Baptize its love, through suffering, Into thine own, And work in me a faith that rests On Christ alone. Pray in the darkness, if there be no light. HARTLEY Coleridge. WEARINESS. "Lord, I am oppressed; undertake for me." ISA. xxxviii. 14. LORD, with a very tired mind I seek thy face; Thy shadowing wing alone can be My resting-place. Oh, let the everlasting arms, WHATSOEVER. ONE day, in stress of need, I prayed, "Dear Father, thou hast bid me bring All wants to thee; so, unafraid, I ask thee for this little thing, Round which my hopes so keenly cling. And yet, remembering what thou art, So dread, so wondrous, so divine, I marvel that I have the heart To tell thee of this wish of mine! "Thy heavens are strewn with worlds on worlds, Thy star-dust powders reachless space; System on system round thee whirls, Who sittest in the central place Of being while before thy face "And when I think our world's but one That in its daily course doth run Around me thrown, Its golden circuit through thy hand, And that its peopled myriads stand Always before thee, even as I. Sad suppliants in their misery dumb, Waiting for every hour's supply, — I wonder that I dare to come! "I could not come, but for thy word, That says I may, in reverent fear, Approach, and through thy grace be heard; Therefore, to-day, I venture near And bring the suit, to me so dear; Remembering what thy Christ hath said, And reading it with faith aright, That every hair upon my head Bears its own number in his sight. "The thing I ask thee for, how small, How trivial must it seem to thee! Yet, Lord, thou knowest, who knowest all, It is no little thing to me, So weak, so human as I be! Therefore I make my prayer to-day, And as a father pitieth, then, Grant me this little thing, I pray, Through the one sacred Name. I had my wish: the little thing, So needful to my heart's content, Was given to my petitioning, And comforted, I onward went Amen!" With tranquil soul, wherein were blent Trust and thanksgiving: for I know Now, as I had not known before, The whatsoever's meaning: so I cavil not nor question more! 1879. EXHORTATION TO PRAYER. WILLIAM COWPER was born at Berkhamstead, Nov. 26, 1731, studied at Westminster School, and was intended for the bar. Nervous weakness and mental alienation interfered with the performance of his duties, and he was induced to write verses as a relief. Sincere in his Christian faith, and possessed of the poetical faculty, he attained a high rank, and is by some critics considered the most important contributor to English poetry between Pope and Wordsworth. His hymns are a source of comfort to many wherever they are sung. He died April 29, 1800. WHAT various hindrances we meet Yet who, that knows the worth of prayer, Prayer makes the darkened cloud withdraw; Restraining prayer, we cease to fight; Have you no words? Ah! think again, Were half the breath, thus vainly spent, 1779. PRAYER. THERE is an awful quiet in the air, And the sad earth, with moist imploring eye, That praying souls are purged from mortal hue, And grow as pure as He to whom they pray. HARTLEY COLERIDGE. "AMEN!" So let it be! The prayer that Christ enjoins Pour forth! So let it be! As drooping vines shrines Full attestation of our faith! "Amen" Includes the sum of our assent, and bears The seal of truth: it is the wing of prayers, Speeding the voice of millions, not in vain, To God's high throne, borne on seraphic airs, To ratify in heaven our glorious gain ! SIR AUBREY DE VERE. |