[Written for the Sentinel]

A Prayer

Oh, let not apathy nor willful slothImpede my growth;And may the bulwark of Thy constant ruthUphold my truth.May consciousness of blessings from aboveRefine my love.Let not doubt's faintest whisper make to ceaseMy perfect peace;Nor any dregs of bitterness alloyMy fullest joy.Let me be conscious in my lowly placeOf crowning grace.Grant that my influence may foster mirthOn this sad earth.Nor let me ever falter in my trustThat God is justAnd will, though long in darkness I may grope,Confirm my hope,And prove, through my assured rejoicing faith,All that He saith.

November 29, 1930

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