TRUE SEEKING

J. E. BREED.

To Him who stays the waste of winds and waves,
Who shapes the tender forms of flowers and leaves,
And in the glow of sky at dawn and night
Reflects the vision of a lovelier light,
I make my prayer.

Nor will I seek the gifts of strength and skill
To ride with Him upon the storm until
I gain the smaller gift of confidence,
And cease to fear the force of elements
When Love is near.

I seek not yet His grace to build a flower,
But grace to ask that every waking hour
Shall teach me something of Love's tenderness,
To guide my touch to bruise each blossom less.
So be it, Lord!

And when men stand to greet the coming sun,
Or view its glow when all its course is run,
Let me not pass between them and the day
To cast a shade of doubt upon their way,
By deed or word.

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