A Prayer

FREDDA R. GRATKE

I lift my voice,
O Father-Mother God;
Hear Thou my cry;
Oh, let me know Thy presence sweet,
And feel Thee nigh.
Oh, let me know,
Whatever may befall
Of men's extremity,
When for Thy help I importune,
Thou hearest me.

I lift my heart,
O Father-Mother God,
For Love divine.
Oh, let its gentle beam of light
In my heart shine,
And help me know,
Though envy, discord, strife, I seem to see,
Through all earth's anger, hate, and sin,
Thou lovest me.

I lift my sense,
O Father-Mother God,
Up unto Thee;
From error's snares and pitfalls dark
Set Thou me free;
And help me know,
As on from sense to Soul
I strive to flee,
Through all the storm and stress of life
Thou holdest me.

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