[Written for the Sentinel]


Oh may I keep my thought so clear, so fair,
That angels, with their fingers pure as light,
May trace the will of God unhindered there.

Whene'er my feet shall carry me abroad
May they tread softly, lest some bruised reed
They break that might have proved a budding rod.

Whene'er my hands essay to sow the seed
May they move wisely, lest too widely flung
It blow away and fail the world to feed.

May wisdom's words that freight my well-ruled tongue
Fare forth to heal the world of all distress,
Till all men shall the angels dwell among.

Then, Love divine, may I such love express
That like a stream Thy life may flow through me
The highest and the lowliest to bless!

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