UNSPOKEN PRAYER

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Jun 2, 1910

Too tired, too worn, to pray, I can but fold my hands, Entreating, in a voiceless way, To Him who understands How flesh and heart succumb, How will sinks, wearied, weak,— Dear Lord, my languid lips are dumb; See — what I can not speak.

Just as a wearied child, With sobbing pain opprest, Drops, hushing all its wailing wild, Upon its mother’s breast, So on Thy bosom, Lord, I cast my speechless prayer, Not doubting Thou wilt let me lie In trustful weakness there.

And though no conscious thought Before me rises clear, The prayer of wordless language wrought Thou wilt not fail to hear. For this at best I plead, Whate’er my spirit saith: I only am a bruised reed, And Thou the living breath.

— Selected.