Poem June 19, 1909 Issue

[Written for the Sentinel.]

TWO PRAYERS

MARY BRENT WHITESIDE.

One in the prison-house of erring thought,
Where darkness reigned through the unlighted year,
In stress and tears, for his own worship, wrought
A frowning God of vengeance and of fear.
Teach me, he cried, though blind, to follow Thee;
To tread Thy thorny way, where'er it lie;
And if it lead at last to Calvary,
Teach me to die!

One answered him from that clear light divine,
Of faith that sears with every conscious breath:
A God of immortality is mine,
Why need I think, then, of the change called death?
Christ sought to wear the crown of thorns alone;
I humbly take the gift He fain would give,
And may the God who loveth all His own,
Teach me to live!

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