 | Claribel and Other Poems |  |
266
A PRAYER FOR TRUTH
O God! the Giver of all which men call good
Or ill, the Origin and Soul of Power!
I pray to Thee as all must in their hour
Of need, for solace, medicine, or food,
Whether aloud, or secretly—understood
No less by Thee. I pray: but not for fame,
Nor love's best happiness, nor place, nor wealth.
I ask Thee only for that spiritual health
Which is perception of the True—the same
As in Thy Nature: so to know, and aim
Tow'rd Thee my thought, my word, my whole of life.
Then matters little whether care, or strife,
Hot sun, or cloud, o'erpass this earthly day:
Night cometh, and my star climbeth Thy Heaven-way.
Or ill, the Origin and Soul of Power!
I pray to Thee as all must in their hour
Of need, for solace, medicine, or food,
Whether aloud, or secretly—understood
No less by Thee. I pray: but not for fame,
Nor love's best happiness, nor place, nor wealth.
I ask Thee only for that spiritual health
Which is perception of the True—the same
As in Thy Nature: so to know, and aim
Tow'rd Thee my thought, my word, my whole of life.
Then matters little whether care, or strife,
Hot sun, or cloud, o'erpass this earthly day:
Night cometh, and my star climbeth Thy Heaven-way.
| Claribel and Other Poems | |