POETRY.
PRAYER.
I amen God's voice in the thunder as I knelt by my bed and prayed, While the lightning stabbed the darkness, and this is what He said : " Arise from thy knees, thou weakling, arise, for thy prayers are vain, For the empty 'plaint thou utt'reet comes forth from an idle brain."
I rose from my feet a-tremble, my cheeks flushed red with shame- Should-prayers find naught but censure? Should humble faith bring blame?
And the voice of God gave answer to my unspoken thought " Thou fool, haat thou forgotten all that thy life hath taught? Dost thou in thy blindness imagine that thou cant juggle with fate,
That to pray on thy knees sufficeth the laws of life to abate? What is it that thou wouldst pray for?—money, or power, or fame—
Such things come not by prayer." My- fury leapt into flame.
"Art Thou not, then, my Creator ? " I cried aloud in my rage, "Thy power awoke the tempest, its force Thou cared assuage; Are we not all Thy children, to whom, then, should we cry? " God thundered back His answer from out the storm-rent sky: " I made thee in Mine own image, I gave thee body and mind; Thy life is an answer to prayer, as he who lives may find ! I care not for blind lip-service, I am deaf to the cry of fear, Yet all who go bravely forward may know that I am near.
I am hem to encourage the coward who girds his loins anew, I am here to uplift the liar who finds what is good is true; I fling forth pain and sorrow, no prayers can stay My hand, I show'r down joy as prizes to those who will understand."
I opened wide my window and bared my head to the rain, As the lightning stabbed the darkness and the thunder pealed again; But my fears had fallen from me, no more would I kneel and pray, For I knew that God was with me and would be with me slimy.
E. L. flatiron MARTIN.
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