Page:Maurine and Other Poems (1910).pdf/92



Thou Christ of mine, Thy gracious ear low bending Through these glad New Year days, To catch the countless prayers to heaven ascending— For e’en hard hearts do raise Some secret wish for fame, or gold, or power, Or freedom from all care— Dear, patient Christ, who listeneth hour on hour, Hear now a Christian’s prayer.

Let this young year that, silent, walks beside me, Be as a means of grace To lead me up, no matter what betide me, Nearer the Master’s face. If it need be that ere I reach the Fountain Where living waters play, My feet should bleed from sharp stones on the mountain, Then cast them in my way.

If my vain soul needs blows and bitter losses To shape it for Thy crown, Then bruise it, burn it, burden it with crosses, With sorrows bear it down. Do what Thou wilt to mould me to Thy pleasure, And if I should complain, Heap full of anguish yet another measure Until I smile at pain. Send dangers—deaths! but tell me how to dare them; Enfold me in Thy care. Send trials, tears! but give me strength to bear them— This is a Christian’s prayer.