MY PRAYER TO TRUTH
Take thou my soul, O Truth, and make me whole,
And gently lead me on eternally.
My eager fancy flies from pole to pole,
To singing star and the ever surging sea—
O stay thou me!
Thru ages past the search has been for thee;
The sage and prophet, vacillating King
And statesmen call aloud for liberty
And light and all beneath thy gracious wing;
To thee the poets sing.
Yet of inquirers many, whoso finds?
Where hidest thou? Point me thy high abode.
Art thou in books? Ah, no! In these there winds
The dusty road of men. Sing me thy ode,
Thy perfect code.
Thou art I know; and sweet and pure thy balm,
Which solaced oft my sorrow-burdened soul;
But leavest not the biding, crowning palm,
Nor faultless portion, pointing to thy goal;
While troubles roll.
Why, when a-thirst and hungry, should I wander,
Some while in want; anon, a feast most fine?
Yet never full; some pressing, ravenous pander
Prepared to steal from me earth’s passing wine;
Pray give me thine.
Some secrets sweet are mine, but oh how few,
Compared to richest bounty which must be
In thy pure heart and home—why not my due?
Will I some day find hid thy mystic key?
Lead on thou me.
My youthful joys and heights of yester-year,
Were bright and buoyant, satisfying then;
But they have gone for aye. More calls I hear;
They charm me onward to some larger ken;
But, O Truth, when?
If all I may not know, then serve will I,
Submissive to each load and yoke thou givest,
Like the plaintless, faithful ox, without a sigh;
But soon I plead: “I poorly live; thou richly livest,
And oft receivest
“Me for some higher service still—but where?
For whom? Why serve and not be satisfied?
Why toil on land and sea, and burdens bear,
Without thy joy? O be my willing bride!”
My poor heart cried.
And lo, I saw encaged a joy-filled bird,
And one a-wing in song, as blithe as free;
A cooing babe I caught, in love preferred—
Knowledge, service, song, O Truth, found me;
And I found Thee.