by THEODORE SPENCER
EMPTY my heart, Lord, of daily vices;
Anxiety, conversation, and selfish prayers;
Teach me to know each minute its own crisis,
And make my views of other men not theirs.
Wipe from my mind, Lord, the inner smirk
That swells from lack of love’s humility;
Empty me of myself, that when I work,
All that I work for, never concerns me.
I am in this fire. Prove me by this fire.
Protect me from the Zeitgeist and its claws.
Give me resolution beyond desire;
Show me authority outranking laws.
Fix me in danger firmly so that I stand
Able to be bowled over by your hand.