A Prayer

Often the western wind has sung to me, There have been voices in the streams and meres, And pitiful trees have told me, God, of Thee : And I heard not. Oh ! open Thou mine ears. The reeds have whispered low as I passed by, ' Be strong, O friend, be strong, put off vain fears, Vex not they soul with doubts, God cannot lie ' : And I heard not. Oh ! open Thou mine ears. There have been many stars to guide my feet, Often the delicate moon, hearing my sighs, Has rent the clouds and shown a silver street; And I saw not. Oh ! open Thou mine eyes. Angels have beckoned me unceasingly, And walked with me ; and from the sombre skies Dear Christ Himself has stretched out hands to me ; And I saw not. Oh ! open Thou mine eyes.