A LITANY FOR LATTER-DAY MYSTICS CALE YOUNG RICE Out of the vastness that is God I summon the power to heal me. Toward unbounded Life Flow through me, vigour-rife. Out of the vastness that is God I summon the power to still me. It banishes; and leaves a bliss Out of the vastness that is God I summon the strength to keep me, I summon the faith that puts to flight And that thought thro' the wide universe, THE FOOL'S PRAYER EDWARD ROWLAND SILL The royal feast was done; the king And to his jester cried: "Sir Fool, The jester doffed his cap and bells, And stood the mocking court before; They could not see the bitter smile Behind the painted grin he wore. He bowed his head, and bent his knee "No pity, Lord, could change the heart ""Tis not by guilt the onward sweep Of truth and right, O Lord, we stay; 'Tis by our follies that so long We hold the earth from heaven away. "These clumsy feet, still in the mire, Go crushing blossoms without end; These hard, well meaning hands we thrust Among the heart-strings of a friend. "The ill-timed truth we might have keptWho knows how sharp it pierced and stung! The word we had not sense to say— Who knows how gladly it had rung? "Our faults no tenderness should ask, The chastening stripes must cleanse them all; But for our blunders-oh, in shame Before the eyes of heaven we fall. "Earth bears no balm for our mistakes; Men crown the knave, and scourge the fool That did his will; but Thou, O Lord, Be merciful to me, a fool!" The room was hushed; in silence rose PRAYER HENRY VAN DYKE These are the gifts I ask of thee, Spirit serene Strength for the daily task; Courage to face the road; Good cheer to help me bear the traveller's load; An inward joy in all things heard and seen. These are the sins I fain would have thee take awayMalice and cold disdain; Hot anger, sullen hate; Scorn of the lowly, envy of the great; A CONFESSION PAUL VERLAINE Translated by Arthur Symons O my God, thou hast wounded me with love, O my God, thy fear hath fallen upon me, O my God, I have known all that is vile, Drown my soul in floods, floods of thy wine, Take my blood that I have not poured out, Take my brow that has only learned to blush, Take my hands because they have labored not, Take my heart that has beaten for vain things, Take my feet, frivolous travellers, That they may run to the crying of thy grace, Take my voice, a harsh and lying noise, Take mine eyes, luminaries of deceit, That they may be extinguished in the tears of prayer, Take mine eyes, luminaries of deceit. Ah, thou God of pardon and promises, God of terror and God of holiness, Thou God of peace, of joy and delight, Thou, O God, knowest all this, all this, And what I have, my God, I give to thee. |