For works with similar titles, see A Prayer.
4566907Poems — A PrayerMartha Lavinia Hoffman
A PRAYER
(And golden vials full of odors which were theprayers of saints.—Rev. 5:8.)
Breathed in the soul's deep chamberWhen none but God, were near;Wrung from a weight of anguishOr a burden of mute despair;But gathered up, by viewless hands,And wafted upward on pinions fleet,Welcomed by joyous angel bands,A golden vial of odors, sweet.
Sung in the house of worshipBy a spirit, tuned to praise,Forgotten amid the tumultAnd bustle of later days;But guarded through Time's dissolving flightBy faithful watchers, who never sleep,Unsullied by earthly rust or blight,A golden vial of odors, sweet.
Lisped by infant voicesIn the hush of the evening hour,Lost on the balmy breezesLike the scent of a fragile flower;But evermore shall the angelsTheir scattered perfume reap,For even a child's petitionIs a vial of incense, sweet.
Uttered in broken accentsBy the trembling voice of age,Or inscribed in true devotionBy the pen of an earnest sage;O, the saint's unheard, unuttered prayerIn its garnered fullness complete,Shall perfume Heaven's unclouded air,A golden vial of odors, sweet.
Wrung from the anguished bosomOf the stricken, dying, brave,Murmured in faltering accentsO'er the cradle or the grave;Forevermore shall the angelsFaith's last petition keep;And love's true invocationIs a vial of odors, sweet.
Vibrating the chords of gladnessLike the praises of happy birds,Or swaying the chords of sadnessIn notes, too deep for words;How many a priceless treasureIs flung on the silent air,When a golden vial full of odorsIs the spirit's voiceless prayer!