What shall I do to be just? Teach me, O Ye in the light, Whom the poor and the rich alike trust: My heart is aflame to be right. TWO PRAYERS CHARLOTTE PERKINS GILMAN Only for these I pray, Pray with assurance strong; Let me have light to see, Light to be sure and know, Let me have power to do, Power of the brain and nerve, Though the task is heavy and new Willingly I will serve. My prayers are lesser than three, Let me have light to see, THE ELIXIR GEORGE HERBERT Teach me, my God and King, Not rudely, as a beast, To run into an action; But still to make thee prepossessed, A man that looks on glass On it may stay his eye; Or if pleaseth, through it pass, All may of thee partake, Which, with this tincture, for thy sake A servant with this clause, Who sweeps a room as for thy laws, This is the famous stone That turneth all to gold; For that which God doth touch and own THE PILLAR OF THE CLOUD JOHN HENRY NEWMAN Lead, kindly light, amid the encircling gloom, The night is dark and I am far from home; Keep thou my feet; I do not ask to see I was not ever thus, nor prayed that thou I loved to choose and see my path; but now I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears Pride ruled my will: remember not past years! So long thy power has blest me, sure it still Will lead me on O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent till And with the morn those angel faces smile Which I have loved long since and lost awhile! THE MYSTIC'S PRAYER WILLIAM SHARP (Fiona Macleod) Lay me to sleep in sheltering flame In flame of sunrise bathe my mind, THE INWARD LIGHT HENRY SEPTIMUS SUTTON I have a little inward light, which still I think it never wholly dies away; Sometimes the wind gusts push it sore aside: Sometimes it seems there is no flame at all; O God! O Father! hear thy child who cries! Who would not quench thy flame; who would not dare To let it dwindle in a sinful air; Who does feel how all-precious such a prize, And yet, alas! is feeble and not wise. Oh, hear, dear Father! For thou knowst the need: ƒ. PRAYERS OF GRATITUDE A THANKSGIVING TO GOD ROBERT HERRICK Lord, thou hast given me a cell A little house, whose humble roof Is weather-proof; Under the sparres of which I lie, Both soft and drie; Where thou, my chamber for to ward, Hast set a guard Of harmless thoughts, to watch and keep Low is my porch, as is my Fate, Both void of state; And yet the threshold of my door, Is worn by the poore, Who hither come and freely get Good words, or meat: Like as my parlour, so my hall And kitchen's small; A little butterie, and therein A little bin, Which keeps my little loaf of bread Unchipt, unflead: Some brittle sticks of thorn and brier Close by whose loving coals I sit, And glow like it. Lord I confess, too, when I dine The pulse is thine, And all those other bits that bee There placed by Thee; The worts, the purslane and the messe Which of thy kindness thou hast sent; And my content Makes those and my beloved beet To be more sweet. 'Tis Thou that crownst my glittering hearth With guiltless mirth; And giv'st me wassaile bowles to drink, Spiced to the brink. Lord 'tis Thy plenty-dropping hand That soiles my land, And giv'st me for my bushel sowne Twice ten for one: Thou mak'st my teeming hen to lay Beside my healthful ewes to bear The while the conduits of my kine All these and better thou dost send That I should render, for my part, Which, fired with incense, I resigne But the acceptance, that must be, |