The Christian’s New Year Prayer
Thou Christ of mine, Thy gracious ear low bending
Through these glad New Year days,
To catch the countless prayers to heaven ascending –
For e’en hard hearts do raise
Some secret wish for fame, or gold, or power,
Or freedom from all care –
Dear, patient Christ, who listeneth hour on hour,
Hear now a Christian’s prayer.
Let this young year, silent, walks beside me,
Be as a means of grace
To lead me up, no matter what betide me,
Nearer the Master’s face.
If it need be ere I reach the Fountain
Where living waters play,
My feet should bleed from sharp stones on the mountain,
Then cast them in my way.
If my vain soul needs blows and bitter losses
To shape it for Thy crown,
Then bruise it, burn it, burden it with crosses,
With sorrows bear it down.
Do what Thou wilt to mould me to Thy pleasure,
And if I should complain,
Heap full of anguish yet another measure
Until I smile at pain.
Send dangers – deaths! but tell me how to dare them;
Enfold me in Thy care.
Send trials, tears! but give me strength to bear them –
This is a Christian’s prayer.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Jesus, Lord Of Heaven Above
Jesus, Lord of Heaven above,
Earth beneath is all Thy own
In the depths of Heavenly love
Let my human heart be sown.
Let my love that as a grain
None on earth might care to see,
Buried in Thy grave remain,
Be a precious seed to Thee.
Thou wilt raise it, though it die,
Thou wilt see it hidden there —
Thou wilt guard it with Thine eye
From the spirits of the air.
None shall take it thence away;
It is sown for Thy delight:
Thou wilt shine on it by day, —
Thou wilt shield it in the night.
Where the silent waters flow,
It shall multiply its root;
It shall blossom, it shall grow,
It shall bear immortal fruit.
Sown in weakness, raised in power —
Sown in suffering, raised in peace —
It shall brave the blighting hour,
In the year of drought increase.
Never hurt by sun or storm,
Blest its every stage shall be;
Dying in its mortal form —
Living evermore in Thee.
poem by Anna Laetitia Waring
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One Year In Heaven
One year in heaven,
One year you've been there,
So far away,
Someday I'll see you in the air,
One year in heaven,
I miss you so much,
Smile down upon me,
And show me your love.
One year in heaven,
It seems like so long,
Since the last time I saw you,
And then you were gone,
One year in heaven,
You left earth to soon,
But I know they need you,
More then I do,
One year in heaven,
I'm alone on the earth,
I miss your sweet kisses,
And all that you're worth,
One year in heaven,
Is God really there?
Why did he take you,
As I cried in despair.
One year in heaven,
I still see your face,
The day that you took,
The last breath you would take,
One year in heaven,
Why did you die,
I know God needed you,
But still I cry.
One year in heaven,
Soon I'll be there,
So wait by the gate,
Please, this do swear,
One year in heaven,
To me it is long,
But you have no pain,
From this earth you have gone.
One year in heaven,
It's so hard to move on,
I'll send you a prayer,
And sing you a song,
One year in heaven,
Life's not the same,
Since you left this world,
I'm living in a daze.
One year in heaven,
You watch from above,
Sit there and smile,
And send me your love,
One year in heaven,
You may think it's just a day,
But this world is so different,
Since God took you away
poem by Michele Weston
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Jesus, I My Cross Have Taken
Jesus, I my cross have taken, all to leave and follow Thee.
Destitute, despised, forsaken, Thou from hence my all shall be.
Perish every fond ambition, all I’ve sought or hoped or known.
Yet how rich is my condition! God and heaven are still mine own.
Let the world despise and leave me, they have left my Savior, too.
Human hearts and looks deceive me; Thou art not, like them, untrue.
And while Thou shalt smile upon me, God of wisdom, love and might,
Foes may hate and friends disown me, show Thy face and all is bright.
Go, then, earthly fame and treasure! Come, disaster, scorn and pain!
In Thy service, pain is pleasure; with Thy favor, loss is gain.
I have called Thee, “Abba, Father”; I have set my heart on Thee:
Storms may howl, and clouds may gather, all must work for good to me.
Man may trouble and distress me, ’twill but drive me to Thy breast.
Life with trials hard may press me; heaven will bring me sweeter rest.
Oh, ’tis not in grief to harm me while Thy love is left to me;
Oh, ’twere not in joy to charm me, were that joy unmixed with Thee.
Take, my soul, thy full salvation; rise o’er sin, and fear, and care;
Joy to find in every station something still to do or bear:
Think what Spirit dwells within thee; what a Father’s smile is thine;
What a Savior died to win thee, child of heaven, shouldst thou repine?
Haste then on from grace to glory, armed by faith, and winged by prayer,
Heaven’s eternal day’s before thee, God’s own hand shall guide thee there.
Soon shall close thy earthly mission, swift shall pass thy pilgrim days;
Hope soon change to glad fruition, faith to sight, and prayer to praise.
poem by Henry Francis Lyte
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Olney Hymn 19: Contentment
Fierce passions discompose the mind,
As tempests vex the sea,
But calm, content and peace we find,
When, Lord, we turn to Thee.
In vain by reason and by rule
We try to bend the will;
For none but in the Saviour's school
Can learn the heavenly skill.
Since at His feet my soul has sate,
His gracious words to hear,
Contented with my present state,
I cast on Him my care.
'Art thou a sinner, soul?' He said,
'Then how canst thou complain?
How light thy troubles here, if weigh'd
With everlasting pain!
'If thou of murmuring wouldst be cured,
Compare thy griefs with mine!
Think what my love for thee endured,
And thou wilt not repine.
''Tis I appoint thy daily lot,
And I do all things well;
Thou soon shalt leave this wretched spot,
And rise with me to dwell.
'In life my grace shall strength supply,
Proportion'd to thy day;
At death thou still shalt find me nigh,
To wipe thy tears away.'
Thus I, who once my wretched days
In vain repinings spent,
Taught in my Saviour's school of grace,
Have learnt to be content.
poem by William Cowper
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Contentment
(Phillipians, iv.11)
Fierce passions discompose the mind,
As tempests vex the sea,
But calm, content and peace we find,
When, Lord, we turn to Thee.
In vain by reason and by rule
We try to bend the will;
For none but in the Saviour's school
Can learn the heavenly skill.
Since at His feet my soul has sate,
His gracious words to hear,
Contented with my present state,
I cast on Him my care.
"Art thou a sinner, soul?" He said,
"Then how canst thou complain?
How light thy troubles here, if weigh'd
With everlasting pain!
"If thou of murmuring wouldst be cured,
Compare thy griefs with mine!
Think what my love for thee endured,
And thou wilt not repine.
"'Tis I appoint thy daily lot,
And I do all things well;
Thou soon shalt leave this wretched spot,
And rise with me to dwell.
"In life my grace shall strength supply,
Proportion'd to thy day;
At death thou still shalt find me nigh,
To wipe thy tears away."
Thus I, who once my wretched days
In vain repinings spent,
Taught in my Saviour's school of grace,
Have learnt to be content.
poem by William Cowper
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Prayer
In my perfect world
Theres no need to right the wronged
Laid down my burden
I know I did not carry the weight
Not sure to who responsibility belonged
I turned a blind eye
While waiting for the hand of fate to still the waters
Heal all the broken hearts
And hope it could be done without a sacrifice
And maybe I just wouldnt pay the price
Ive fought this long enough
Now I send the prayer to heaven for the chance to be
A better man than the man I see
I send the prayer to heaven, lay your hands on me
I aint a saint but to this I swear I send the prayer
And now I feel all I can do is not enough
My rome is burning and Im standing at the deep abyss
But every passion started with an act of love
And every act of love, started with a single kiss
Father, father your gift was my world of light
And Ive betrayed you with a single judas kiss
Ive been my own executioner
But its not just me anymore
Now I send the prayer to heaven for the chance to be
A better man than the man I see
I send the prayer to heaven, lay your hands on me
I aint a saint but to this I swear
Burn my wasted pride
Open your heart to this
Theres a voice thats crying somewhere
Deep inside my soul for shelter
Now I send the prayer to heaven for the chance to be
A better man than the man I see
I send the prayer to heaven, lay your hands on me
I aint a saint but to this I swear
Now I send the prayer to heaven for the chance to be
A better man than the man I see
I send the prayer to heaven, lay your hands on me
I aint a saint but to this I swear I send the prayer...
Now I send a prayer to heaven...
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Sickness
Jesus, since I with thee am one,
Confirm my soul in thee,
And still continue to tread down
The man of sin in me.
Let not the subtle foe prevail
In this my feeble hour,
Frustrate all the hopes of hell
Redeem from Satan's pow'r.
Arm me, O Lord, from head to foot,
With righteousness divine;
My soul in Jesus firmly root,
And seal the Saviour mine.
Proportion'd to my pains below,
O let my joys increase,
And mercy to my spirit flow
In healing streams of peace.
In life and death be thou my God,
And I am more than safe:
Chastis'd by thy paternal rod,
Support me with thy staff.
Lay on me, Saviour, what thou wilt,
But give me strength to bear:
Thy gracious hand this cross hath dealt,
Which cannot be severe.
As gold refin'd may I come out,
In sorrow's furnace try'd;
Preserved from faithfulness and doubt,
And fully putify'd.
When, overwhelm'd with sore distress,
Out of the pit I cry,
On Jesus suffering in my place
Help me to fix mine eye.
When marr'd with tears, and blood, and sweat,
The glorious sufferer lay,
And in my stead sustain'd the heat
And burden of the day.
The pangs which my weak nature knows
Are swallow'd up in thine:
How numberless thy pondrous woes!
How few, how light are mine!
O might I learn of thee to bear
Temptation, pain and loss!
Give me a heart inur'd to prayer,
And fitted to the cross.
Make me, O Lord, thy patient son;
Thy language mine shall be:
"Father, thy gracious will be done,
I take the cup from thee."
While thus my soul is fixt on him
Once fasten'd to the wood,
Safe shall I pass through Jordan's stream,
And reach the realms of God.
And when my soul mounts up to keep
With thee the marriage feast,
I shall not die, but fall asleep
On my Redeemer's breast.
poem by Augustus Montague Toplady
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Heaven Help Ye
Heaven help ye, lorn ones! bending
'Neath your weary life of pain,
Tears of ceaseless anguish blending
With the bitter cup ye drain;
Yet think not your prayers ascending,
Shall forever rise in vain.
Hearts there are of human feeling,
That have felt your cry of woe;
Bear awhile! and soon revealing
Brighter prospects with its glow,
Light across your night-clouds stealing
Hours of freedom yet may show.
poem by Elizabeth Margaret Chandler from Poetical Works
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Monk
WHEN in my narrow cell I lie,
The long day's penance done at last,
I see the ghosts of days gone by,
And hear the voices of the past.
I see the blue-gray wood-smoke curled
From hearths where life has rhymed to love,
I see the kingdoms of the world--
The glory and the power thereof,
And cry, 'Ah, vainly have I striven!'
And then a voice calls, soft and low:
'Thou gavest My Earth to win My Heaven;
But Heaven-on-Earth thou mayest not know!'
It is not for Thy Heaven, O Lord,
That I renounced Thy pleasant earth--
The ship, the furrow, and the sword--
The dreams of death, the dreams of birth!
Weary of vigil, fast, and prayer,
Weak in my hope and in my faith--
O Christ, for whom this cross I bear,
Meet me beside the gate of Death!
When the night comes, then let me rest
(O Christ, who sanctifiest pain!)
Falling asleep upon Thy breast,
And, if Thou wilt, wake never again!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Shepherd Divine, Our Wants Relieve
Shepherd divine, our wants relieve,
In this our evil day;
To all Thy tempted followers give
The power to trust and pray.
Long as our fiery trials last,
Long as the cross we bear,
O let our souls on Thee be cast,
In never-ceasing prayer.
Thy Holy Spirit's praying grace
Give us in faith to claim;
To wrestle till we see Thy face,
And know Thy hidden name.
Till Thou the Father's love impart,
Till Thou Thyself bestow,
Be this the cry of every heart, -
I will not let Thee go.
I will not let Thee go, unless
Thou tell Thy name to me;
With all Thy great salvation bless,
And say, - I died for thee.
Then let me, on the mountain-top,
Behold Thine open face,
Till faith in sight is swallowed up,
And prayer in endless praise.
poem by Augustus Montague Toplady
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If Christ Came Questioning
If Christ came questioning His world to-day,
(If Christ came questioning,)
'What hast thou done to glorify thy God,
Since last My feet this lower earth plane trod?'
How could I answer Him; and in what way
One evidence of my allegiance bring;
If Christ came questioning.
If Christ came questioning, to me alone,
(If Christ came questioning,)
I could not point to any church or shrine
And say, 'I helped build up this house of Thine;
Behold the altar, and the corner stone';
I could not show one proof of such a thing;
If Christ came questioning.
If Christ came questioning, on His demand,
(If Christ came questioning,)
No pagan soul converted to His creed
Could I proclaim; or say, that word or deed
Of mine, had spread the faith in any land;
Or sent it forth, to fly on stronger wing;
If Christ came questioning.
If Christ came questioning the soul of me,
(If Christ came questioning,)
I could but answer, 'Lord, my little part
Has been to beat the metal of my heart,
Into the shape I thought most fit for Thee;
And at Thy feet, to cast the offering;
Shouldst Thou come questioning.
'From out the earth-fed furnaces of desire,
(Ere Thou cam'st questioning,)
This formless and unfinished gift I brought,
And on life's anvil flung it down, white hot:
A glowing thing, of selfishness and fire,
With blow on blow, I made the anvil ring;
(Ere Thou cam'st questioning).
'The hammer, Self-Control, beat hard on it;
(Ere Thou cam'st questioning,)
And with each blow, rose fiery sparks of pain;
I bear their scars, on body, soul, and brain.
Long, long I toiled; and yet, dear Lord, unfit,
And all unworthy, is the heart I bring,
To meet Thy questioning.'
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Casting All Your Cares
Cast all your cares to Jesus Christ, and peace will flow into your life.
Just cast every single burden to Him, even those ladened with sin.
Lay them at the foot of the cross, where He died for sins of the lost.
Even when your trials don’t cease, He will fill your heart with peace.
God wants to transform your life, through the power of Jesus Christ.
With the same power He displayed, when our Lord Jesus was raised.
That was three days after friend, for all the world He was condemned.
Where God judged the world’s sin; as our iniquity was placed on Him.
Christ died in much agony and pain, and it was all for our eternal gain.
When all the sin of this world, upon His shoulders by God was hurled.
The Sinless Lamb had died for all; and this to free us from Adam’s fall.
Christ, the firstfruits of God’s love, is now enthroned in Heaven above.
With God’s Power came His Grace, for His Only Son died in our place.
Christ had given His life to rise again, and this is the Hope for all men.
Believers are buried with Jesus Christ, and in Him we rise to New Life.
Christ’s bodily resurrection is the proof, of God’s Glorious Eternal Truth.
Remember that Christ died for all, and our burdens for Him are small.
Christ died to give us all new life, so He can deal with our daily strife.
So cast all your cares at His feet, for in Christ Jesus we are complete.
And until we look upon His face, Christ will sustain us with His Grace.
(Copyright ©02/2006)
The Silence in the Church
“The congregation shall be desired, secretly in their prayers, to make their humble
supplications to God . . . .
for the which prayers there shall be silence kept for a
space.”
(No. 1.)
O Holy spirit, we entreat,
Send down Thy quickening fire;
Let Thine own presence, dread and sweet,
These waiting hearts inspire.
In every thought and word and deed,
Breathe Thou the breath of life—
The fulness of the grace they need
For their appointed strife.
Help them to hold, in clasp of prayer,
The rod and staff of God;
And lead them safely, surely, where
The Christ Himself hath trod.
Give power to speak Thy message, Lord,
To every feeble voice;
May they the true seed cast abroad
Till desert wastes rejoice.
Make strong the toiling hearts and hands,
Keep watching eyes from sleep,
That golden harvests crown the lands
When angels come to reap.
* * * * *
(No. 2.)
POUR now, O Lord, all gifts of grace
From Thy most holy dwelling-place;
And let the living flame be shed
On each disciple's bended head.
Light up his soul with light divine,—
A star of heaven on earth to shine,
A beacon on life's stormy sea,
To guide the wandering bark to Thee.
Lord, clothe him now in white complete,
In Thine own spirit, pure and sweet;
Let him go forth to labour well,
In truth and strength invincible.
May his calm lips, that whisper now
The yearning prayer, the solemn vow,
Be ready, in the judgment-day,
The faithful servant's words to say—
“Lord, I have tried, in faithful strife,
To win Thy lambs to light and life;
Lord, I have truly kept for Thee
The awful charge Thou gavest me.”
poem by Ada Cambridge
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Confidence
Oppressed with sin and woe,
A burdened heart I bear,
Opposed by many a mighty foe:
But I will not despair.
With this polluted heart
I dare to come to Thee,
Holy and mighty as Thou art;
For Thou wilt pardon me.
I feel that I am weak,
And prone to every sin:
But Thou who giv'st to those who seek,
Wilt give me strength within.
Far as this earth may be
From yonder starry skies;
Remoter still am I from Thee:
Yet Thou wilt not despise.
I need not fear my foes,
I need not yield to care,
I need not sink beneath my woes:
For Thou wilt answer prayer.
In my Redeemer's name,
I give myself to Thee;
And all unworthy as I am
My God will cherish me.
O make me wholly Thine!
Thy love to me impart,
And let Thy holy spirit shine
For ever on my heart!
poem by Anne Brontë from Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (1846)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Anton Martin Schweigaard (In The Church After The Funeral Oration)
Give us, God, to Thee now turning,
Fullness of joy, tears full and burning,
Of will the full refining fire!
Hear our prayer o'er his inurning:
His will was
one
, the whole discerning,
His whole soul would to it aspire.
Yes; give us yet again,
With power to lead, great men,-
Power in counsel our folk to lead,
Our folk in deed,
Our folk in gladness and in need!
Thou, O God, our want preventest;
To raise the temple
him
Thou lentest,
A spirit bright and pure and great.
When Thou from time to call him meantest,
Her tender soul to him Thou sentest
Who went before to heaven's gate.
When Thou didst set him free,
An epoch ceased to be.
Men then marveled, the while they said:
'Living and dead,
O'er all our land he beauty spread.'
Help us, God, to wiser waring,
When to our land Thou light art bearing,
That we Thy dayspring then may know.
God, our future Thou'rt preparing,
Oh, give us longing, honor's daring,
That we the great may not forego!
Thou sentest many out,-
Cease not, our God, nor doubt!
Let us follow Thy way, Thy call,
Men, words, and all!
Thy mercies shall our North enwall!
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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The Mother's Prayer
This was my little son
Who leapt and laughed on my knee:
Body we made with love,
Soul made with love by Thee.
This was the mystery
In which I worshipped Thy grace;
This was the sign to me -
The unveiling of Thy face . . .
This, that lies under Thy skies
Naked as on that day
When the floor of heaven gave way
And the glory of God shone through,
When the world was made new
And Thy word was made flesh for me . . .
He lies there, bare to Thy skies,
O Lord God, see!
Body that was in mine
A secret, sacred spell,
Little hands I have kissed
Trampled by beasts in Hell . . .
Growing beauty and grace . . .
Oh, head that lay on my bosom . . .
Broken, battered, shattered . . .
Body that grew like a blossom!
All that was promised me
On my life's royal day.
Every promise broken -
Only a ghost, and clay!
O God, I kneel at Thy feet;
I lay my hands in Thine:
Thou gavest Thy Son for the world,
And shall I not give mine?
Only--O God, have pity!
All my defences are down:
God, I accept the Cross,
Let HIM have the Crown!
By all that my love has borne,
By all that all mothers bear,
By the infinite patient anguish,
By the never-ceasing prayer,
By the thoughts that cut like a living knife,
By the tears that are never dry,
Take what he died to win You -
God, take Your victory!
We have watched on till the light burned low,
And watched the dawn awake;
We have lived hardly and hardly fared
For our sons' sake.
All that was good in Thy earth,
All that taught us of Heaven,
All that we had in the world
We have given.
We pray with empty hands
And hearts that are stiff with pain.
O God! O God! O God!
Let the sacrifice not be vain.
This is his blood, Lord, see!
His blood that was shed for Thee;
Thy banner is dyed in that red tide
Lord, take Thy victory!
God! give Thine angels power
To fight as he fought,
To scatter the hosts of evil,
To bring their boastings to naught -
Gabriel with trumpet of battle . . .
Michael, who wields Thy sword . . .
Breathe Thou Thy spirit upon them,
Put forth Thy strength, O Lord.
See, Lord, this is his body,
Broken for Thee, for Thee . . .
My son, my little son,
Who leapt and laughed on my knee.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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A Fair Melody: To Be Sung By Good Christians
Awake, my heart's delight, awake
Thou Christian host, and hear
These tones that lovely music make,
God's Word most pure and clear,
That now is sweetly sounding,
While dawn is piercing through the night
Through God's dear love abounding.
The prophets' message now at last
Our ears may hear again,
Locked up therewith in silence fast
Long had the Gospel lain;
But now we hear their voices,
And many an anxious burdened soul
In freedom now rejoices.
For conscience lay oppressed and bound
By bans and men's commands,
Soul-traps and nets were all around;
But now our German lands,
Behold the sun is risen,
And those foul shapes were ghosts and lies,
And dare to burst their prison.
Christ sends us many messengers
His gospel to proclaim,
And all the realm of darkness stirs
To work them death or shame,
And quench the Truth in error;--
O Christendom, thou Bride of God,
Fear not for all their terror!
Trust thou in flattering tongues no more,
Though many they may be;
All human teachings dread thou sore,
Though good they seem to thee;
But put thy whole affiance
In God's good-will and holy Word,
There is our one reliance.
There yield thy heart and soul entire,
What it commands is good;
Where it forbids let no desire
E'er stir within thy blood;
Where it allows, maintain thou
Thy Christian freedom as Paul saith,
Yet from offence refrain thou.
The Word will save thee from the smart
Of sin and pains of hell,
If thou believe it with thy heart
No evil there can dwell;
'Twill make thee pure and holy,
And teach thee that in Jesus lies
Our hope and comfort solely.
Blest be the day and blest the hour
When thou didst see revealed
The Word of God in all its power,
The soul's true strength and shield;
Let nought to thee be dearer
In heaven or earth, no creature-love
E'er to thy heart be nearer.
O Christendom, here give thou heed,
By no false lore perplexed,
Here seek and find true life indeed
For this world and the next;
For he who dies believing
In Christ alone, shall live with Him,
His heavenly joys receiving.
poem by Hans Sachs
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’Tis Easter-time Again!
Easter is coming, once again;
It is a boon and not a bane;
The year is two thousand and seven;
’Tis time to prepare your soul for heaven.
Follow the road taken by Christ’s cross;
Offer your sorrows to Jesus, the boss;
This is the time to sacrifice;
Make up your mind to give up all vice!
Forgive and forget your neighbors’ faults;
Bear not witness against him false;
Waste not time and never tell lies;
A Christian ought to be soul-wise.
Jesus died to rise again;
His sufferings were not in vain;
He left His Holy Spirit here,
For us to live, without any fear.
Prepare your soul by good confession;
Do your penance with passion;
Where are the Shepherds? Where are the flocks?
Where are the men of God in white frocks?
Open your heart to Jesus Christ-
The Son of the One, Living God praised;
If your flocks have gone astray,
Go search and bring them in Christ’s way!
poem by John Celes
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The Mediator
O Christ, true Son of God most high,
Thy name we praise for ever;
Whoe'er to Thee for help doth cry
Shall find Thee fail him never;
'Tis Thou wilt plead,
Thou intercede
With God, for us who need Thy prayers so sore:
Thy bitter strife
Hath wrought us life,
And Thine be thanks and praise for evermore!
To Thee the Father giveth now
All power in earth and heaven;
Sin, Satan, Death to Thee must bow,
All fetters Thou hast riven,
Bade fear to cease,
And made our peace,
That now to God we dare our hearts outpour:
Thy bitter strife
Hath wrought us life,
And Thine be thanks and praise for evermore!
Fulness of grace is in Thy Word;
The Life, the Truth, the Way
To life eternal art Thou, Lord;
To Thee alone we pray,
Who didst appear
A servant here
To bear the sin that crushed the world before:
Thy bitter strife
Hath wrought us life,
And Thine be thanks and praise for evermore!
poem by Hans Sachs
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Magi to the Star
I. Thanksgiving.
Star, on thy Heaven-returning way,
Our message of thanksgiving bear;
To Him who answered with thy ray
The priestless Gentiles' trembling prayer.
When songs of revel shook the roof,
God, Thou didst cheer the joyless course,
Where we, like Vashti, walked aloof,
Braving the world's unjust divorce.
How rate we now all griefs and scorn
That filled our youth with bitterness!
We had not known the Christ is born
But that we sought for One to bless!
II. Prayer.
Fence Thou Thy Child, O Merciful,
When hate shall cavil at His worth;
When underlings like Haman rule
Hold Thou the golden sceptre forth.
When envy round Thy Precious One
Its tongues of scorching flame hath curled,
Unwasted let His virtue run
From the sore furnace of the world
To fill a new Colossus-mould.
When tireless unbelief hath sent;
Thy truest Image to the cold
Pure mountain-tops of banishment,
Give then, O God, Thy light, to break
Through all earth's valleys cramped and dim,
That after-times may see, and take
Their heroes' measurement from Him!
III. Farewell.
A new horizon's dim blue ring
Around our watch-fire shall be cast,
New stars replace the vanishing,
To-morrow's homeward travel past.
Word-bringer, now thine embassy
Is closed, thou stayest not to fill
A lowlier office. Thou shalt be
Soon 'mid the angels, shining still!
One priceless pearl of upper sea,
One matchless gem of heaven's rich mine;
Within the place once held by thee
God send no after-light to shine!
Yet, foremost of the host of gold,
Long-followed, thou wast never sent,
A glimpse of what the Heavens enfold,
To darken earth with discontent!
Star of the Promised! Streaming on
Through Time's long night, though thou must set,
Thy light shall spread, when thou art gone,
O'er sunless lands we see not yet!
poem by Mary Hannay Foott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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