A Prayer in Weakness

O FATHER, infinite and near,
My will subdue, my heart control!
With weary, helpless, burdened soul
I cry to thee, and thou wilt hear !
The restless longings of the Past,
The frantic clasp of hands that strained
To clutch a gift thou kept’st, unstained,
For meeker thanks, at last ! at last ! —
The bitter word, the idle hand,
The blind revolt against thy will,—
Forgive them, Father, ah ! if still
My prayer war not with thy command.
O, make them memories dark and dim,
Whose warning visions only meet
My eyes when earth-love seems too sweet,
Or songs of triumph drown my hymn!
M. B. C.