es mirk
Thus, swift and steadfast; thus, intent and strong;
While, thus, apart from toil, our souls pursue
Some high, calm, spheric tune and prove our work
The better for the sweetness of our song.

--Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

PRAYER OF DEEDS

The deed ye do is the prayer ye pray;
"Lead us into temptation, Lord;
Withhold the bread from our babes this day;
To evil we turn us, give evil's reward!"

Over to-day the to-morrow bends
With an answer for each acted prayer;
And woe to him who makes not friends
With the pale hereafter hovering there.

--George S. Burleigh.

SUNDAY

Not a dread cavern, hoar with damp and mould,
Where I must creep and in the dark and cold
Offer some awful incense at a shrine
That hath no more divine
Than that 'tis far from life, and stern, and old;

But a bright hilltop, in the breezy air
Full of the morning freshness, high and clear,
Where I may climb and drink the pure new day
And see where winds away
The path that God would send me, shining fair.

--Edward Rowland Sill.

PRAYER

When prayer delights thee least, then learn to say,
Soul, now is greatest need that thou should'st pray:

Crooked and warped I am, and I would fain
Straighten myself by thy right line again.

Oh, come, warm sun, and ripen my late fruits;
Pierce, genial showers, down to my parched roots.

My well is bitter, cast therein the tree,
That sweet henceforth its brackish waves may be.

Say, what is prayer, when it is prayer indeed?
The mighty utterance of a mighty need.

The man is praying who doth press with might
Out of his darkness into God's own light.

White heat the iron in the furnace won,
Withdrawn from thence 'twas cold and hard anon.

Flowers, from their stalk divided, presently
Droop, fall, and wither in the gazer's eye.

The greenest leaf, divided from its stem,
To speedy withering doth itself condemn.

The largest river, from its fountain-head
Cut off, leaves soon a parched and dusty bed.

All things that live from God their sustenance wait,
And sun and moon are beggars at his gate.

All skirts extended of thy mantle hold
When angel hands from heaven are scattering gold.

--Richard Chenevix Trench.

MEANING OF PRAYER

One thing, alone, dear Lord, I dread-