The Hour Of Prayer

 "He prayeth best, who loveth best, All things both great and small;
For dear God who loveth us,  He made and loveth all."
-Samuel Taylor Coleridge
"The Rime of the Ancient Mariner"

"He prayeth best who loveth best"

Margaret Tarrant

(1888-1959)

English Illustrator

Child, amid the flowers at play,

While the red light fades away;

Mother, with thine earnest eye,

Father, by the breeze at eve

Called thy harvest work to leave;

Pray! Ere yet the dark hours be,

Lift the heart, and bend the knee.

Traveler, in the stranger's land,

Far from thine own household band;

Mourner, haunted by the tone

Of a voice from this world gone;

Captive, in whose narrow cell

Sunshine hath not leave to dwell;

Sailor, on the darkening sea;

Lift the heart and bend the knee.

Warrior, that from battle won,

Breathest now at the set of sun;

Woman, o'er the lowly plain,

Weeping on his burial plain,

Ye that triumph, ye that sigh,

Kindred by one holy tie,

Heaven's first star alike ye see;

Lift the heart, and bend the knee.

"The Hour Of Prayer"
Felicia Dorothea Hemans
(1794-1835)
English poetess