IN earnest expectation the sons of God remain,
While all Creation groaneth and travaileth in pain;
Then shall not man, with deepest needs, his eager tribute pay
To the universal cry for help? Aye, brethren, let us pray!
Beneath the raging billows oft a perfect calm is found,
Beneath all jarring discord, a sweet and solemn sound,
Beneath the world’s wild laughter, beneath its choking care,
Beneath its sin and sorrow is the underflow of prayer.
Imperfectly, from baby lips, it ripples at its source,
Then surging through the ripening soul in deep and steady course:
It gushes from the mourner as he bends him o’er the grave,
And purifies the yearnings of the noble and the brave.
It overflows from mothers’ hearts, and sinks into the sand
That drifts upon life’s barren shore, or heaps its crowded strand.
Thence oft, perchance, to spring again with half unconscious start,
And hear a secret blessing to the sin-bewildered heart.
Few are the souls that have not prayed, though, lacking outward sign,
They scorn the kneeling devotee, the priesthood and the shrine;
Some sudden burst of happiness, of triumph or of love,
Has surely flashed a grateful spark to the bounteous Hand above!
Some startling fear, or sickening pang, or grief that lacks a word.
Has sent a thrill along the line that links us with our Lord:
Nay, tell me not you never pray, ye hungry souls and dry,
Like infants craving for their food, a prayer is in your cry.
The eagle skims through wintry skies to feed its senseless brood,
The lion and the wolf supply their thankless cubs with food,
So may the blessed Spirit-Dove our famished souls relieve,
And teach our foolish, fainting hearts new mercies to receive.
You cannot kindly greet a friend, or speed a parting guest,
Without the wish which is a prayer uprising in your breast;
O, say not then you cannot pray while yet you live and move.
And while your pulse has still a throb of hope and trust and love!
Say, rather, “all our need is prayer,” and may the Almighty One
Accept each drop that joins the stream onrushing to His Throne!
And may that tide yet heave and swell beneath our world of care,
For the Kingdom of our Lord shall come in an overflow of prayer.
(Emily Mary Barton)
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Based on Topics: Love Poems, Man Poems, God Poems, World Poems, Sadness Poems, Soul Poems, Joy & Excitement Poems, Friendship Poems, Cry Poems, Hope Poems, Pain PoemsBased on Keywords: cubs, purifies, devotee, groaneth, imperfectly, travaileth, onrushing, underflow