[Written for the Sentinel]

A Prayer

Oh , let not apathy nor willful sloth
Impede my growth;
And may the bulwark of Thy constant ruth
Uphold my truth.
May consciousness of blessings from above
Refine my love.
Let not doubt's faintest whisper make to cease
My perfect peace;
Nor any dregs of bitterness alloy
My fullest joy.
Let me be conscious in my lowly place
Of crowning grace.
Grant that my influence may foster mirth
On this sad earth.
Nor let me ever falter in my trust
That God is just
And will, though long in darkness I may grope,
Confirm my hope,
And prove, through my assured rejoicing faith,
All that He saith.

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November 29, 1930
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