Poem September 10, 1932 Issue

A Prayer

LEILA SMITH GRIFFITH

Lord, grant me patience
To bear the little things that seem to irk —
The petty hates, the jealousies that lurk
In daily contact with my fellow man—
These cannot hurt me, if I only can
More patient be.

Lord, make me loving.
To see no evil in my brother's life,
To know him free from envy and from strife,
That error may not tempt me to transgress
In seeing aught in him save loveliness—
This is true love.

Lord, keep me humble.
So let my thoughts and aspirations rise
To Thy great throne, that the true sacrifice,
A broken and a contrite heart, may be
An offering pure, made in humility
And love to Thee.

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September 10, 1932
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