Volume 19 / Part 2 — The Answered Prayer.

“Mortal cannot make

Conditions with the Creator.”—Schiller.

Into my broken heart

Pour gracious balm,

Where the deep waters start

Breathe holy calm;

Over my weary life

Shed deep repose,

Shelter me from the strife,

Baffle my foes!

I have not shunned my task

Early or late;

I have not turned to ask

“Wherefore?” of fate.

Only one cry went up,

Hopeless at length—

“Father! to drink thy cup

Grant me thy strength.”

Now at the last I stand

Waiting from heaven,

Patient, with outstretched hand,

Alms never given!

Grant me, O God! I pray,

One answ'ring sign

Ere I withdraw for aye!

Speak! Am I thine?

Cometh the sign at last—

Bolt hot and red,

Falling to crush and blast

Desolate head;

Driving the cowering form

Wildly across

Life's heath, through flood and storm,

On—to the cross!

[pg 333]