Page:Pieces People Ask For.djvu/87

Rh A piece of the Litany sometimes,
 * The Collect, perhaps, for the day,

Or a scrap of a prayer that my mother
 * So long ago learned me to say.

But now my poor memory's failing,
 * And often and often I find

That never a prayer from the Prayer-book
 * Will seem to come into my mind.

But I know what I want, and I ask it,
 * And I make up the words as I go:

Do you think that shows I ain't High Church?
 * Do you think that it means I am Low?

My blessed old husband has left me,
 * 'Tis years since God took him away:

I know he is safe, well, and happy,
 * And yet, when I kneel down to pray,

Perhaps it is wrong, but I never
 * Leave the old man's name out of my prayer,

But I ask the dear Lord to do for him
 * What I would do if I was there.

Of course he can do it much better;
 * But he knows, and he surely won't mind

The worry about her old husband,
 * Of the old woman left here behind.

So I pray and I pray for the old man,
 * And I'm sure that I shall till I die;

So maybe that proves I ain't Low Church,
 * And maybe it shows I am High.

My old father was never a Churchman,
 * But a Scotch Presbyterian saint:

Still his white head is shining in heaven,
 * I don't care who says that it ain't;

To one of our blessed Lord's mansions
 * That old man was certain to go:

And now do you think I am High Church?
 * Are you sure that I ain't pretty Low?