SILENT PRAYER.
“Now Hannah, she spake in her heart; only her lips
moved, but her voice was not heard.”—1 Sam. i. 13.
We do not pray, because we move
Our lips in oral speech,
For depths abound of deeper love
Than words can ever reach.
Nor is it prayer, when utter'd thought
With ardent feeling glows,
As though th' excited breast were fraught
With flame that overflows:
For words may flow from fluent powers,
And prove a dubious sign;
'Tis only when the truth is ours,
The heart, oh Lord, is Thine!
The raptured tongue whose tones arise
Like sparks of mental fire,
Not ever breathes those contrite sighs
Deep thoughts of sin inspire.
And oft when o'er moved fancy rolls
Soft melody of speech,
No inward awe the mind controls
With truths words cannot reach.
True prayer is that mysterious breath
The Spirit from above
Breathes through the heart in life, and death,
And is the pulse of Love!
'Tis God within, imparting grace,
'Tis heaven come down to earth,
That man may look in Mercy's face,
And feel his second birth;
A sense of want, of woe, and sin,
A creed that Christ is all,
A faith whose filial voice within
Can God “My Father!” call;
Reliance on atoning Blood,
Convictions true and deep,
Attesting that the Lord is good
Who bids us smile, or weep;
With aspirations pure and high
That souls, like saints, may be
Both while we live, and when we die,
From guilt and Satan free,—
Behold a Prayer! a breath divine,
Whose sacred throb and thrill,
Believer, can that heart of thine
With unvoiced worship fill.
In such high mood of heavenliness,
Upon thy spirit's chords
Devotion feels a magic stress
Beyond translating words:
But He, benign Interpreter!
Who hears an inward groan,
In heaven perceives the voiceless stir
Of souls He calls His own.
Unbreathed, unspoke a prayer may be,
Nor vocal lips proclaim
What God alone can hear and see,
When Love adores His name.
Then, cheer thee! sad but sainted Heart
That pines for spoken prayer;
Be sure, if child of God thou art,
More love than lips declare
Dwells in thy depths of being still,—
Howe'er some baffled word
Break down beneath those thoughts which fill
The soul where God is heard.
And thus when dying voice decays,
And pulse and motion cease,
Heaven marks the speaking eye that prays
For mercy's last release.
True Christians live beyond their speech,
And faith is more sublime
Than syllables of breath can reach,
Framed out of sense and time.
