A Prayer
Lord God, Thou lettest the green things start
A new life every year;
Out of their sunken selves they rise,
Erect and sweet and clear.
Behold the lily’s pure, white leaves
Unfolding by each mere!
Again the sap mounts in the fir
Thro’ every swelling vein;
Again the clover stirs and thrills,
Responsive to the rain;
Again the tender grass makes green
The lone breast of the plain.
Hear the new, golden flood of song
The lark pours to the blue!
Behold the strong, undaunted shoot
Pushing its brave front through
The fallen tree. . . . Lord God, Lord God,
Let me begin anew!
Out of my own self let me rise!
For, God, if it can be
A new and noble growth may spring
From yon decaying tree―
Surely a strong, pure life may mount
Out of this life of me.
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