DEAR Lord, who loveth passing well Thine own beloved Son, What do they win, these little prayers, That seek Thee one by one: These little prayers that find Thy feet Like doves whose flight is done? The little prayer of Mary Rose Who pleads on worn knee That Thou keep safe from cruel things Her pretty lad at sea: The little prayer of this pale one, Before the candles seven, Begging Thee guard till she be there Her little child in Heaven. What do they win, these little prayers, That seek Thee one by one; Dear Lord, who loveth passing well Thine own beloved Son? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...INSCRIPTION FOR THE ENTRANCE TO A WOOD by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT EIGHT O'CLOCK by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN SILEX SCINTIALLANS: THEY ARE ALL GONE by HENRY VAUGHAN THE LAY OF ST. ALOYS; A LEGEND OF BLOIS by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM PSALM 14. DIXIT INSIPIENS by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE WITH ILLUSTRATION TO GRAY'S POEMS by WILLIAM BLAKE |