“A Prayer”

God of the lonely soul, 
God of the comfortless, 
God of the broken heartfor these, 
Thy tenderness! 
For prayers there be enough, 
Yea, prayers there be to spare, 
For those of proud and high estate; 
Each hath his share. 
But the beggar at my door, 
The thief behind the bars; 
And those that be too blind to see 
The shining stars; 
The outcast in his hut, 
The useless and the old; 
Whoever walks the city’s streets 
Homeless and cold; 
The sad and lone of soul 
Whom no man understands; 
And those of secret sin, with stains 
Upon their hands; 
And stains upon their souls; 
Who shudder in their sleep, 
And walk their ways with trembling hearts, 
Afraid to weep; 
 
For the childless mother, Lord, 
And ah, the little child 
Weeping the mother in her grave, 
Unreconciled 
God of the lonely soul, 
God of the comfortless, 
For these, and such as these, I ask 
Thy tenderness! 
Whose sin be greatest, Lord; 
If each deserve his lot; 
If each but reap as he has sown 
I ask Thee not. 
I only ask of Thee 
The marvel of a space 
When these forgot and blind may look 
Upon Thy face. 

“A Prayer” as it appears in Higginson’s The Vanishing Race (1911).