Unanswered Prayers
Like some school master, kind in being stern,
Who hears the children crying o’er their slates
And calling, “Help me master! ” yet helps not,
Since in his silence and refusal lies
Their self-development, so God abides
Unheeding many prayers. He is not deaf
To any cry sent up from earnest hearts,
He hears and strengthens when He must deny.
He sees us weeping over life’s hard sums
But should He give us the key and dry our tears
What would it profit us when school were done
And not one lesson mastered?
What a world
Where this if all our prayers were answered. Not
In famed Pandora’s box were such vast ills
As lie in human hearts. Should our desires
Voiced one by one in prayer ascend to God
And come back as events shaped to our wish
What chaos would result!
In my fierce youth
I sighed out a breath enough to move a fleet
Voicing wild prayers to heaven for fancied boons
Which were denied; and that denial bends
My knee to prayers of gratitude each day
Of my maturer years. Yet from those prayers
I rose always regirded for the strife
And conscious of new strength. Pray on, sad heart,
That which thou pleadest for may not be given
But in the lofty altitude where souls
Who supplicate God’s grace are lifted there
Thou shalt find help to bear thy daily lot
Which is not elsewhere found.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Related quotes
Sonnet XI: Tears, Vows, and Prayers
Tears, vows, and prayers win the hardest heart:
Tears, vows, and prayers have I spent in vain;
Tears cannot soften flint, nor vows convert;
Prayers prevail not with a quaint disdain.
I lose my tears where I have lost my love;
I vow my faith where faith is not regarded;
I pray in vain a merciless to move;
So rare a faith ought better be rewarded.
Yet though I cannot win her will with tears,
Though my soul's idol scorneth all my vows,
Though all my prayers be to so deaf ears,
No favor though the cruel Fair allows.
Yet will I weep, vow, pray to cruel she;
Flint, frost, disdain wears, melts, and yields we see.
poem by Samuel Daniel
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He Gives Us Strength
I feel your presence all around
You pick me up when I am down
When I need you I know you'll be there
And my problems with you I'll share.
Billions of prayers go out to you
And you know just what to do
You hear the hearts crying
And calling your name
And no two are ever the same.
Prayers may not be answered the
Way we want and feel
But we all begin to heal.
No pain will you give
With which we can not live.
Every pain that we go through
Is something that we have to do.
The pains make us stronger
To challenge all the tomorrows
That will come, and we will
Continue the fight till the war is won.
poem by Louis Rams
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Dead Prayers
hearts trek
feet travel to the road
leading to unknown tombs
forgotten by the winding clocks
never remembered by the heart
and troubled souls
reach the unpainted walls
of a moss decorated crypt
and the dead souls
shouts dead prayers
only the dead can understand
what are halloween prayers anyway?
for uncaring bones
became stout by the earth
addicted by the rain of forgetfullness
and drugged by dreams gone wild
of wisdom lost
in a maze of unknown heavens
in a hell never found..
yet it is Halloween
so hearts still murmur
souls still recite
dead prayers for all
dead souls
encaged on dead tombs
poem by Villiamor Calventas
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In Prayer
in prayer you kneel you make your pleas
you signify
your lowliness in supplication
you behave
like a slave
you mumble you juggle your words
choppy sometimes as you are in deep sorrow
in hunger in thirst
in dire need of comfort
asking wanting that your prayers
be granted
you genuflect to a certain extent
you are crying
you are silent
yet you are so confused and crowded
you need your prayers to be answered
at once
the soonest
you are dying
or someone you love is dying out there
you want to live
you want the other you love to live some years
you want to be together
hence your prayers
some tears fall on the floors now wet and salty
a flood of tears
a rush of a thousand words in supplication
you fall on the floor
face down the earth hands stretching body flat and so tired
i watch you and i pity you and if i were God myself i could have
heard and granted all our prayers
the prayer room is so silent
it is cold tonight and i am too, so confused hearing nothing
outside a storm is raging
the rain so strong like the wind is coming
i close the door and the windows so there may still be silence
so our prayers may be heard
who knows? maybe, maybe, who knows? we must still continue....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Prayer Warriors
We are the prayer warriors and we say the prayers
For all the people for whom we care.
It matters not the position you’re in
If you’re good or if you sinned.
We all need prayers some time in our lives
Especially when things don’t turn out right.
When you’re sick or in despair
The prayer warriors are always there.
You pray for me as I pray for you
And all our prayers will come true.
We do not have to be gathered
As a group when we pray.
In a church, a temple, in a steeple
He listens to all of us, for we are his people.
They say there is strength when we gather in prayer
A common belief that we all share.
So let us pray for our fellow man
Because he now needs a helping hand.
So father we thank you for the blessings each day
And helping all who come your way.
poem by Louis Rams
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How to Pray?
Pray incessantly;
Pray most fervently;
Pray with all your heart;
God will do His part!
Pray most sensibly;
Pray most effectively;
Pray deep from your heart;
Pray as if an art!
Pray for prolonged time;
Pray in any clime;
Pray by singing rhymes;
God’s answers chime!
Pray in holy place;
Pray with heav’nly gaze;
Pray for human race;
Pray in many ways.
Let prayers rise up high;
Let prayers pierce the sky;
Let prayers touch God’s heart,
As blessings divine start!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 11-14-2009
poem by John Celes
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Beyond Doubt He Is Alive
He hears my prayers
He answers my prayers
He provides my needs
And guides my deeds
He walks with me
He dwells in me
Beyond doubt He is alive
He speaks to His own
He empowers His own
In Him we perform miracles
In Him we overcome all obstacles
His church is marching on
His word is spreading on
Beyond doubt He is alive
This is why we fear no evil
Our redeemer liveth
Our master who bruised the devil
Our Messiah who rose from the dead
Liveth for ever more
poem by Emmanuel Oduro
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Unanswered Prayers
The greatest gift
Can sometimes be…
Unanswered prayers
Life composed…
Then unexpectedly exposed
as a labyrinth of layers
For what you pray today…
could be The opposite of…
your prayers upon the morrow
And the granted prayer
Now wished undone, becomes…
A source of new found sorrow
Take care in prayer
Intone it wisely…
waste it not, I pray of you
Take care in what you pray for
For your prayer…
just might come true
poem by David Whalen
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Evenstar
Evenstar, still evenstar
If this twilight thou dost shine
On a more unhappy head,
On tears lonelier than mine,
Vainer prayers and deepest sighs,
Take, sweet spirit, thou that art
Comforter of our despairs
All the prayers perforce unsaid,
All the sighs I cannot sigh,
All the tears I cannot shed;
Fill his eyes and flood his heart,
Who, my everlasting kin,
Broods, afar, unknown, apart.
Bring, ah bring him that surcease
From unsolaceable pain,
Which nor prayers, nor tears, nor sighs,
No, nor even the divine
Presence of thy eternal peace
Can, O evenstar, make mine.
poem by Robert Nichols
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There are more tears shed over answered prayers than over unanswered prayers.
quote by Saint Theresa of Jesus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why and when prayers can't be of help!
If prayers can't develop person,
and purify oneself,
If prayers can't modify the
person,
If prayers can't erase inherent
fear and prejudice, if prayers are unable to transcend
mundane self,
If prayers can't take one to the
oneness of self and God,
If not prayers show the light,
It is not the prayers that are handicapped,
But the mind without love of
eternal is handicapped,
mind that can't walk
straight, how can it leap,
Without longing for beloved, How can the heartless robot can
see the light,
Can a record player get
deliverance,
chanting mantra billion times
mechanically? The failure is in his own mind,
It is his own mind that is opaque,
darkness felt not due to absence
of light,
But due to thickness of dust on
the mirror, When intense longing
promotes, prayer blooming into
absorption,
Meditation becomes every
breath,
Breath felt heavy without feeling beloved,
Then only one finds it,
and feel always independant
eternal,
Unity of all creation,
As creator himself breathing in all creatures!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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The Pilgrim
Vain folly of another age,
This wandering over earth,
To find the peace by some dark sin
Banish'd our household hearth.
On Lebanon the dark green pines
Wave over sacred ground,
And Carmel's consecrated rose
Springs from a hallow'd mound.
Glorious the truth they testify,
And blessed is their name;
But even in such a sacred spot,
Are sin and woe the same.
O pilgrim! with each toilsome step,
Vain every weary day;
There is no charm in soil or shrine,
To wash thy guilt away.
Return, with prayer and tear, return
To those who weep at home;
To dry their tears will more avail,
Than o'er a world to roam.
There's hope for one who leaves with shame,
The guilt that lured before;
Remember, He who said, 'Repent,'
Said also, 'Sin no more.'
Return, and in thy daily round
Of duty and of love,
Thou best wilt find that patient faith
Which lifts the soul above.
In ev'ry innocent prayer, each child
Lisps at his father's knee: -
If thine has been to teach that prayer,
There will be hope for thee.
There is a small white church, that stands
Beside thy father's grave,
There kneel and pour those earnest prayers,
That sanctify and save.
Around thee draw thine own home-ties,
And, with a chasten'd mind,
In meek well-doing seek that peace,
No wandering will find.
In charity and penitence,
Thy sin will be forgiven: -
Pilgrim, the heart is the true shrine,
Whence prayers ascend to Heaven.
poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
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Rubber Of The Rosary
I am the rubber of the rosary,
said Sister Paul, my finger and
thumb move over the beads like
a humble worm, I utter prayers
like a hissing snake, my breath
rising in the air like a frightened
bird. The silence enfolds me like
my lover's arms, its peacefulness
kisses my ears like my lover's lips,
the touch of the thick silence my
lover's fingertips. His breath breathes
upon my neck, His requests utter
In my ears, His love echoes through
my being. The darkness embraces
me like a black cloth, my eyes see
shadows in nightly prayers, my sight
fails me with its tired eyes, the late
nights, the on knees prayers, the
going up and down the stairs to
and from the chilling chapel. I am
a denier of self, my self denial is
my weapon against the selfish I,
my way of keeping the ego in its
place, the surging wanter of wants
kept check, each fight for self denial
takes its toll, the selfish I wants its
revenge, seeks its way through my
daily walks, my day to day talks,
the moment of eating, drinking,
sleeping, the dreaming nights.
My lover comes at my least request,
His eyes see me in the darkness's
hold, His fingers find me and release
my bonds, His words echo through
the blackest night, His love warmer
than the sun's kiss, His nearness
closer than air to lungs, than stars
to sky. My Lover comes, my prayers
are heard, my soul is lifted up, my
finger and thumb push round the black
beads, He is there, noting each whispered
prayer, he lays me upon my bed, rests
me down, His holy lips healing my soul,
granting peace to my all too human head.
poem by Terry Collett
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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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Say Your Prayers
Don't want to live in a prison cell
don't want to live in a smoking room,
independence just won't come to you
in the brief of a diplomat.
Say your prayers for the future
say your prayers for the past,
it might be round the corner
it might be all we have.
Say your Prayers.
Don't want to live with a compromise
don't want to live with hypocrisy,
bureaucracy doesn't have to win
breaks the cage of the beast within.
Say your prayers in the boardroom
say your prayers on the stairs,
it might be catastrophic
it might be too damn bad.
Say your prayers.
I got the cure for compassion fatigue
spend a week with the Timorese,
running scared from the military
you can share you can share your disease.
Now we don't live with an absent master
we don't live on an island divided,
don't want my kids to grow up in shame
in a country with a different name
had to throw them out, had to break the chains.
I got the cure for compassion fatigue
spend a week with the Timorese,
running scared from the military
I come to you with a plaintive plea.
song performed by by Midnight Oil
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
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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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0369 Prayer. To Mike, who asked.
Simplest prayer, soonest answered,
so it’s said; so let us be as little children
(themselves an answered prayer..?)
and ask the simplest questions -
how? whom to? for what? and will we get
what we are asking for? promise?
suppose He or She or It thinks, (if They think anyway..)
that’s it’s a silly thing to ask for,
or just a bit too ‘me’ and greedy,
will they say no? will they let us know
somehow, that’s it’s no?
or will our justice be
to get what we think we want
until the day we wish we hadn’t asked for it?
or is it like the tale of the three wishes,
everything turned to gold – including us! …
another wish, please cancel; then
the last and sensible small wish, which may even
include the welfare of all others too?
Some say the commonest of prayers
amounts to, please God, let two and two
please equal five…that prayers may only ask
what may be within the domain of the law
of our Creation; some even say that, given this,
we’ll always get what we wish for – eventually;
but that by some mighty, unalterable law,
as with the fairies gathered around
Sleeping Beauty’s cradle, as the Fates,
along with what we asked for, comes
a something else for which we didn’t ask…
others say that there’s no difference
between the meaning of a prayer, and praise;
that in our praise, our prayer is surely shaped
and those who do not think to praise
may never know, to whom to pray,
or ever truly know, for what…
and others of a theologic mind
pray to be taught, for what to pray…
or instead of prayer, to learn to willingly accept
all that befalls them, as the gift of all
that they might pray for, for their good of soul…
*
all this is for considering; but I suggest
that in the depths of grief, or heights of joy, we know
the place where prayer may arise:
so deep within ourselves, that it’s beyond
the asking or the answering; a place so deep
that there, our soul rests in peace,
all questions meet all answers,
and all desires are satisfied;
there is no loss,
and nothing lacks;
we are – ourselves; ourself; at peace;
and for that, we may surely pray.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The power of prayer
You pray a lot and take pride
That your prayers are granted
And you pray some more
Like a monk like a priest,
Sometimes I think about
Prayerful dogs, what if their
Prayers are granted too
Bones and more bones
Would surely rain from
The heavenly skies.
Oh yes, I pray, but if my
Prayers are not granted,
I still know that God loves me
He thinks my wants are not the best
For me, and he reserves the rest.
That really suits me best.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Confessional
Search thou my heart;
If there be guile,
It shall depart
Before thy smile.
Search thou my soul;
Be there deceit,
'T will vanish whole
Before thee, sweet.
Upon my mind
Turn thy pure lens;
Naught shalt thou find
Thou canst not cleanse.
If I should pray,
I scarcely know
In just what way
My prayers would go.
So strong in me
I feel love's leaven,
I 'd bow to thee
As soon as Heaven!
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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