Page:Poems Cook.djvu/145

PRAYER.

How purely true, how deeply warm,
 The inly-breathed appeal may be,
Though adoration wears no form,
 In upraised hand or bended knee!
One Spirit fills all boundless space,
 No limit to the when or where;
And little recks the time or place
 That leads the soul to praise and prayer.

Father above, Almighty one,
 Creator, is that worship vain
That hails each mountain as thy throne,
 And finds a universal fane?
When shining stars, or spangled sod,
 Call forth devotion, who shall dare
To blame, or tell me that a God
 Will never deign to hear such prayer?

Oh! prayer is good when many pour
 Their voices in one solemn tone;
Conning their sacred lessons o'er,
 Or yielding thanks for mercies shown.
'Tis good to see the quiet train
 Forget their worldly joy and care;
While loud response and choral strain
 Re-echo in the house of prayer.

But often have I stood to mark
 The setting sun and closing flower;
When silence and the gathering dark
 Shed holy calmness o'er the hour.
Lone on the hills, my soul confess'd
 More rapt and burning homage there,
And served the Maker it address'd
 With stronger zeal and closer prayer.

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