POETRY.
THE TWO PRAYERS.
LORD when they came and stood upon my way
With "One is dead," I paused awhile to pray.
In brief thanksgiving that I still did live On the good earth that had so much to give.
Through my sweet garden softly did I go To lift some lily's head that hung too low, Or bind a rebel rose that sought to stray Across my path. More dear were they to-day When I did live who might as lief be dead.
"Was ever World so fair?" I whisp'ring said.
"Thank God! for eyes, for ears, for strength, for breath, All that he hath not who bath tasted death."
But when they went in silence, to my heart Their pity pierced, then came the poisoned dart, With "He is dead." I flung me low to pray.
"Lord, I have watched through the uncertain day When he was far, and ev'ry throbbing hour, Half lost in fear the joy of bird or flower.
And new alarm I found, did some sharp cry Come from the street, or did a foot pass by Swift in its going, all did threaten him.
Hear me, 0 Lord ! who sips at sorrow's brim.
Take thou these eyes, these ears, this strength, this breath, All that he hath not who bath tasted death."
DORI SIGERSON SHORTER.
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