Thy Soul At Prayer

by Walter M. Lindsay

This Sabbath morn, thy soul has made
Anew its peace with heaven;
Thy chamber is the temple, where
Thy offerings are given.
And yet thou prayest, not alone
At morn and evening hours;
Thy holy thoughts to God ascend
Always. -- As the flowers
Unconscious of their sweetness are,
Yet breathe it on the air
In all their day, so thy pure life
Is an unceasing prayer.


Copyright 1856
D. Appleton And Company,
346 And 348 Broadway
New York
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