AN OLD WOMAN’S PRAYER.

New Zealand Tablet, 8 April 1920, Page 13

AN OLD WOMAN’S PRAYER.

(For the N.Z. Tablet.) The rain has come and washed the skies Until they look to my old eyes Like some small boy that lifts his face, Wiped clean, in state of grace, And lingers, sure of praise I know the children’s ways. I lie here dying quietly. Glad, save that heaven frightens me. What will I do when that great Kingdom come? 1 cannot sing, for I was ever dumb— Nor yet help Mary with her household cares, I am too weak. They say that there are stairs. hat I would like, what 1 would most desire. Is just a quiet corner by the fire, With some old saints for company. Not high ones, commoners like me And one thing more, how shall . 1 see my Lord? Not seated at His feasting-board. Princes and Powers on left and right, And I too far away for sight Not as from Thabor mountain stepping down, The morning clinging to His lids, the rainbow folded in His gown, For I am wrinkled, plain, and grey, His glory might not glance my way— Nor would I have Him suffering among those stunted little trees, For I would bo too old and numb to help Him in His agonies, Too shy to part the bramble boughs, To wipe the sweat from His dear brows. But could I meet Him small and young,' With little lisping, stammering tongue, ' Chasing the butterflies and birds, With little foolish words, Too small to understand my sin. Too white to think of blot within, Too sweet to mind that I am old, How glad I’d run His hand to hold! —-E.D.