A Prayer (Cranch)
From The Libertarian Labyrinth
- O Spirit pure ! though trite and faded forms
- Point like a cold clock-finger to thy Truth,
- And but a glimmer of thy radiance warms
- The symbols that should glow with Nature's youth;
- Though men of selfish codes may hide or darken
- That light of thine own purity and love,
- So that we scarce may still the world, and hearken
- To thy sweet voice that droppeth from above;
- Though man be false, and institutions vain,
- Not false or vain let thy high Presence be;
- Through icy custom, and through man's disdain,
- Shine on my heart, and set my spirit free!
- Be still my nameless hope, my secret joy,
- That comes, and comes again in hours of rest;
- My rock of strength that passeth all annoy;
- My dove of heaven that broodeth in my breast.
- Be all thou can'st — be all I inly need!
- The world may weigh me down, but not enslave:
- The burden shall roll off, and I be freed,
- If I but trust the strength thy mercy gave.
C. P. C. [Christopher Pearse Cranch]
- Christopher Pearse Cranch, “A Prayer,” The Present 1, no. 1 (September 1843): 10.