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Poems (Hoffman)/A Prayer

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For works with similar titles, see A Prayer.
4566907Poems — A PrayerMartha Lavinia Hoffman
A PRAYER

(And golden vials full of odors which were the
prayers of saints.—Rev. 5:8.)

Breathed in the soul's deep chamber
When none but God, were near;
Wrung from a weight of anguish
Or a burden of mute despair;
But gathered up, by viewless hands,
And wafted upward on pinions fleet,
Welcomed by joyous angel bands,
A golden vial of odors, sweet.

Sung in the house of worship
By a spirit, tuned to praise,
Forgotten amid the tumult
And bustle of later days;
But guarded through Time's dissolving flight
By faithful watchers, who never sleep,
Unsullied by earthly rust or blight,
A golden vial of odors, sweet.

Lisped by infant voices
In the hush of the evening hour,
Lost on the balmy breezes
Like the scent of a fragile flower;
But evermore shall the angels
Their scattered perfume reap,
For even a child's petition
Is a vial of incense, sweet.

Uttered in broken accents
By the trembling voice of age,
Or inscribed in true devotion
By the pen of an earnest sage;
O, the saint's unheard, unuttered prayer
In its garnered fullness complete,
Shall perfume Heaven's unclouded air,
A golden vial of odors, sweet.

Wrung from the anguished bosom
Of the stricken, dying, brave,
Murmured in faltering accents
O'er the cradle or the grave;
Forevermore shall the angels
Faith's last petition keep;
And love's true invocation
Is a vial of odors, sweet.

Vibrating the chords of gladness
Like the praises of happy birds,
Or swaying the chords of sadness
In notes, too deep for words;
How many a priceless treasure
Is flung on the silent air,
When a golden vial full of odors
Is the spirit's voiceless prayer!