This morning I came across this undated poem penned by Mary Baker Eddy. It was found in one her early scrap books. There's such love in it. This blessed desire reaches through the shallows of human fear and into the sanctuary of heaven--the consciousness of God. May our prayers today be earnest and unselfish.
Is not the Christian’s balm for grief,
mid scenes of strife and care,
A holy calm, a sweet relief,
found oftenest in prayer?
Unsatisfying, fraught with fear,
our hopes too frequent are;
But faith still claims a Father’s ear
to listen to our prayer.
When pleasure’s siren voice would charm,
ambitious hopes ensnare,
We gird the Christian armor on
and conquer, oft by prayer.
O’er memory’s joys we love to dwell;
past scenes, past converse share.
But where’s the thoughts once spiritual,
if hallowed not by prayer?
Should mists of darkness cloud the brow
nor ray divine appear,
Before God’s presence meekly bow
till doubts dissolve in tears.
O sacred fount! perennial joys
in Thee alone are found.
Drink deep, my soul, nor fear alloy
where only peace abounds.
Unfettered may this weary soul,
confined to grosser air,
Triumphant, win that heavenly goal:
the earnest of our prayer.
-Mary Baker Eddy (undated early poem)