L XI A PRAYER Imitated from the Persian ORD! who art merciful as well as just, Incline Thine ear to me, a child of dust! Not what I would, O Lord! I offer Thee, Alas! but what I can. Father Almighty, who hast made me man, And bade me look to heaven, for Thou art there, Accept my sacrifice and humble prayer. Four things which are not in Thy treasury, I lay before Thee, Lord, with this petition : My nothingness, my wants, My sins, and my contrition. R. Southey XII THY WILL BE DONE ATHER, I know that all my life And the changes that are sure to come I do not fear to see; But I ask Thee for a present mind, I ask Thee for a thoughtful love, I would not have the restless will Wherever in the world I am, I have a fellowship with hearts And a work of lowly love to do, And if some things I do not ask I would have my spirit filled the more There are briars besetting every path, There is a cross in every lot, And an earnest need for prayer; But a lowly heart that leans on Thee, Is happy anywhere. In a service which Thy will appoints, For my inmost heart is taught the truth A. L. Waring XIII 66 THE FORCE OF PRAYER "WHAT is go dark words begins my tale; HAT is good for a bootless bene?" And their meaning is, whence can comfort spring When prayer is of no avail? "What is good for a bootless bene?" And she made answer, "Endless sorrow!" She knew it by the falconer's words, Young Romilly through Barden Woods The pair have reached that fearful chasm, With rocks on either side. This striding-place is called the Strid, A thousand years hath it borne that name, And hither is young Romilly come, And what may now forbid, That he, perhaps for the hundredth time, He sprang in glee, — for what cared he That the river was strong and the rocks were steep? But the greyhound in the leash hung back, And checked him in his leap. The boy is in the arms of Wharf, And strangled by a merciless force; For never more was young Romilly seen Till he rose a lifeless corse. Now there is stillness in the vale, Long, long in darkness did she sit, And her first words were, "Let there be, In Bolton, on the field of Wharf, A stately Priory." The stately Priory was reared, And Wharf, as he rolled along, To matins joined a mournful voice, Nor failed at even-song. And the Lady prayed in heaviness O there is never sorrow of heart, W. Wordsworth XIV THE CHRISTIAN'S PRAYER ESUS, my strength, my hope, JE With humble confidence look up, On Thee almighty to create, I want a sober mind, That tramples down and casts behind A soul inured to pain, To hardships, grief, and loss; Bold to take up, firm to sustain, The consecrated cross. I want a godly fear, A quick discerning eye, That looks to Thee when sin is near, That sees the tempter fly; A spirit still prepared, And armed with jealous care, |