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...LOVE IN TWILIGHT by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET DELUSION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON JULY IN GEORGY by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON |