Poem December 31, 1932 Issue

Sweetness of Prayer

KATHERINE VARGA POHLMAN

We say the Master spent long hours
In prayer to God. But, oh, how short
Those dear hours must have seemed to him
Who came to save the world,
A world that suffered from its sad belief

In sickness and in death—its dream,
As now, of sorrow and of woe.
Our Saviour sought those holy hours of prayer
To feel anew his Father's loving care;
To wrap in comfort all divine his aching heart,
And reaffirm his oneness with that tender Love
Which met his sore-felt want, his need
For wisdom, grace, and power.

Today when we, God's children, ask for light,
It is as when Christ Jesus prayed for love.
We drop the world, forget its care, we turn
With childlike hearts to God.
True peace enfolds us; joy is born,
Winged seem the precious hours of prayer,
So fast their flight.