Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward

A Prayer: Vespers

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Great God!
Behold, I lie
Beneath Thine awful eye,
As the sea beneath the sky.

My God,
What hope abides?
Thine unknown purpose rides
The torrent of my tides.

Dear God,
I am not a shore, or hill,
An ocean must take still
The colors of the heavens' will.

Choose, God.
Though days be blue, or gold,
Though sorrows new, or cold,
Though purple joy be there,
Or gray of old despair,
Give but Thyself to me,
And let me be Thy sea.
Thy storms have had their way.
I pray now not to pray.

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