123
A PRAYER.
Lord, if thy world of beauty fails to rouse
My apathetic soul to faith in thee,
And I in swelling bud and blossom see
No sign of all their loveliness avows;
If, set upon Life's consecrated brows,
Thy seal remains invisible to me,
And I, unmindful of the inner plea,
No other interest than self espouse,
Then stab my soul awake with conscious sin;
Pierce through my cold complacence, and reveal
The death to which indifference is akin,
Till, overwhelmed by shame and guilt, I feel
The smooth, self-righteous Pharisee within
Give place and, humbled, at thy threshold kneel.
