The Prayer

'Many worlds have I made,' said the Good God, 'But this is best of all,' He slipped the round earth from His lap, Space held the circling ball. 'Six days have I laboured,' said the Good God, 'To make it very fair, And man and woman have I moulded fine, Set them together there. 'Open ye night's windows,' said the Good God, 'For I would hear them pray,' Up from the spinning globe there came Loud cries from far away. 'Into my hands deliver,' cried the man, 'The chast'ning of my foe, His vineyards grant me—his slaves and oxen, So shall I lay him low.' 'Give to me strange beauty,' said the young maid, 'More fair than all to be, So I anoint my body and go forth To draw men's hearts to me.' 'Behold! this is not good,' said the Lord God, 'Nor made to My desire,' Then cried His little Son, 'I shall go forth, To save them from Thine ire.' 'Oh, reach ye down your arms,' said the Good God Unto the seraphim, 'Lift up the broken body of My child For they have tortured Him.' 'Open the windows of the night,' said the Good God, 'For I would hear them weep,' Up from the spinning world's tumultuous sound Man's prayers imperious leap. 'Into my hands deliver,' cried the man, 'My foe to bend and break, Burst Thou his strongholds and his ships entomb, So I my vengeance take.' 'Give to me rare beauty,' said the young maid, 'More fair than all to be, So I in silken raiment shall go forth To draw men's souls to me.'