When prayer delights thee least, then learn to say,
Soul, now is greatest need that thou should'st pray:
Crooked and warped I am, and I would fain
Straighten myself by thy right line again.
Oh, come, warm sun, and ripen my late fruits;
Pierce, genial showers, down to my parchèd roots.
My well is bitter, cast therein the tree,
That sweet henceforth its brackish waves may be.
Say, what is prayer, when it is prayer indeed?
The mighty utterance of a mighty need.