The Master's Prayer

MARGARET HOUSTON PROBERT

A score of centuries ago
Rose that all-loving plea,
In little walled Jerusalem,
My Master's prayer for me.

He did not pray for those alone
Who round him stood and heard;
His prayer went up for every heart
That trusteth in his word.

Oh, road so dark that seems to lie
Mid error's shadowy horde,
Do I not bear a shining lamp—
This token from my Lord?

Do I not wear an armor firm
That keeps me safe and free?
We know his word who trust its power,
My Master's prayer for me!

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