WHEN I PRAY

My Father, when I pray, how brief and swiftThe flight of heart to reach infinity!I need but shut away the mind's small viewTo find Thee anywhere I am.Then, in this sweet awareness of Thy love,The door made fast against the outer tide,I rest, secure in everlasting arms.Here, I renew my joy, refresh my faith.Here, with Thy allness round about,I see the shallow human scene grow dim—The foolish, fleeting, soon-forgotten thingsFor which we spend ourselves, and reap the wind.

No searching but is blessed: no good withheld.No fears I bring, are taken back again.And never can my asking be too much,Or length of stay stretch out too long for Thee.As often as I come, Thy welcome waits!And though my feet must press alongThe busy, crowded thoroughfares,Or treacherous steeps, or midnight roads,Or even where it seems no God could be,I find Thee there, my Father—when I pray.

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Editorial
"WHERE FETTERS FALL"
December 26, 1953
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