Poems (Trask)/Prayer

by Clara Augusta Jones Trask

For works with similar titles, see Prayer.

PRAYER.

The rosy day is fading out
 Along the western sky;
And through the mellow summer air
 The white cloud-vessels fly;
A breath of odor faint and sweet
 Comes from the meadow's breast,
And all the earth, and heaven, lie
 Serene in quiet rest.

The universe sleeps tranquilly
 Beneath the eye of God;
And weary feet are resting now
 Which devious ways have trod;
Shall lack of faith, and lack of hope,
 Disturb and tear my breast?
Shall doubt of Heaven's mercy fill me
 With a vague unrest?

Perplexed and dark my spirit is,
 I cannot see the way;
And grim night flings its banners out
 Across the brow of day;
But though the distant heights are hid
 In veils of chilly mist,
I'll not despair,—the vapors flee
 When by the sunbeams kissed.

Heaven seems a long, long distance off,—
 Shut in by brazen bars;
Forbidding in their pale, pure light
 Twinkle the gleaming stars.
Failing to call a blessing down,
 I'll climb the winding stair,
And reach the City of our God,
 Borne by the breath of prayer.