Poem April 18, 1931 Issue

My Prayer

ANNE H. BROGAN

DEAR Lord, I ask
To see my brother as the son of God,
As one begotten of the Father's love,
Whose high and holy heritage I share—
Both sons, both heirs of that great heritage,
The Father's home.
In him the image of the perfect One
To see, though veil of flesh may blur the view,
The pure, the holy, the immortal son
Who dwells triumphant in that Father's home
In ageless bliss!
No critic's voice from me to mar his line;
No baser thought his ancestry deny;
No faith to human birth and death to give;
No dream of flesh to dull the glorious truth;
Our heritage,
The sons of God, our lineage divine!
To know, though sun and moon and stars grow dim,
The blessed Word throughout the changing years
Will never fail the watcher on the height—
Thou art my son!
Ye are my witness, the Father said.
Isaiah voiced this word in olden time,
And in the later day when Jesus came,
He bade us say in simple love and trust,
Our Father—ours!
To lift my head above the mists of time;
To trust my Father's love to guide my feet;
To walk serene, and by the truth to see
My brother walk beside me, perfect, true—
Father, I ask.

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