A PRAYER

I Know it cannot be irreverence,
This feeling that I have anent that time
When with my life work finished, I go hence,
Leaving this low plane for the upward climb.
My father God, and Christ my beauteous Brother
Have ever owned the deepest heart of me.
Yet when I journey on, there is one other
I first would meet, and clasp, and hear, and see.

God and His holy Son have host on host
To welcome, and to comfort, and to cheer;
I think They would not mind it, if the most
Belovèd soul They took from me, drew near
To show the way. ... Lord! Up the golden street
Let my love lead me to Thy shining feet.

Sonnets of sorrow and triumph. by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
New York: George H. Doran, 1918.


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