Poem April 9, 1921 Issue

[Written for the Sentinel]

A Prayer

NETTIE ORCENA WOLFLEY

Dear Father, tend the garden of my thoughts,
Thy dearest care,
And uproot every weed and flower Thou hast
Not planted there.

Give me, to keep my paths and borders straight,
Thy Golden Rule,
To fashion them like his who left for men
No sharper tool.

Teach me to know at sight, in any guise,
One noxious weed,
The "root of bitterness" which, springing up,
Bears evil seed.

Warm with the sunshine of Thy love the soil
Around each tree
That, looking from the earth up toward Thy light,
Bears fruit to Thee.

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