Our Prayer

God save our men at arms.

Shield them ‘mid war’s alarms.

God save our men.

Strong may they stand in Thee

Valiant for Liberty

Crown them with Victory,

God save our men.

God of the Open Air

I

Thou who hast made Thy dwelling fair

With flowers below, above with starry lights,

And set Thine altars everywhere—

On mountain heights,

In woodlands dim with many a dream,

In valleys bright with springs,

And on the curving capes of every stream;

Thou who has taken to Thyself the wings of morning, to abide

Upon the secret places of the sea,

And on far islands, where the tide

Visits the beauty of untrodden shores,

Waiting for thy worshippers to come to Thee

In Thy great out-of-doors;

To Thee I turn, to Thee I make my prayer,

God of the open air….

II

These are the gifts I ask

Of Thee, Spirit serene:

Strength for the daily task,

Courage to face the road,

Good cheer to help me bear the traveler’s load,

And, for the hours of rest that come between,

An inward joy in all things heard and seen.

These are the sins I fain

Would have Thee take away;

Malice, and cold disdain,

Hot anger, sullen hate,

Scorn of the lowly, envy of the great,

And discontent that casts a shadow gray

On all the brightness of the common clay.

These are the things I prize

And hold of dearest worth:

Light of the sapphire skies,

Peace of the silent hills,

Shelter of forests, comfort of the grass,

Music of birds, murmur of little rills,

Shadows of cloud that swiftly pass,

And after showers,

The smell of flowers,

And of the good brown earth—

And best of all, along the way, friendship and mirth.

So let me keep

These treasures of the humble heart

In true possession, owning them by love;

And when at last I can no longer move

Among them freely, but must part

From the green fields and from the waters clear,

Let me not creep

Into some darkened room and hide

From all that makes the world so bright and dear;

But throw the windows wide

To welcome in the light;

And while I clasp a well beloved hand,

Let me once more have sight

Of the deep sky and the far-smiling land—

Then gently fall on sleep,

And breathe my body back to Nature’s care,

My spirit out to Thee, God of the open air.

-       Henry Van Dyke[1]

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[1] Henry Van Dyke (1852-1933) was an American clergyman, educator, and author. He was born in Germantown, Pennsylvania, and graduated from Princeton, 1873, and Princeton Theological Seminary, 1874. He was pastor of the Brick Presbyterian Church, New York City (1883–99), professor of English literature at Princeton (1899–1923), and U.S. minister to the Netherlands (1913–16). Among his popular inspirational writings is the Christmas story The Other Wise Man (1896). The themes of his sermons are also expressed in his poetry and the essays collected in Little Rivers (1895) and Fisherman’s Luck (1899). He translated (1902) The Blue Flower of Novalis.  (Source: Columbia Encyclopedia)

For Insight

Lord, as I thread the ways of life 

Amid confusion, toil and strife,

The sting of ill, the mystery

Of hearts concealed beneath the eye:

Help me to know the kindness meant

The purpose born of good intent;

To feel amid distrust and fear

The faith of loyal souls sincere,

Whose grace, though oft I knew it not,

My sins discerned, forgave, forgot.

Give me the patient skill to guess

What words have perished to express;

To realize how a heart is wrung

In anguish hidden by the tongue;

To feel the cheer of prayers unheard;

The gentle wish that hath no word.

The sympathy too deep for sound;

And know in truth that these abound

For him who will his duty do

And to his fellow man be true.

-       Charles Poole Cleaves[1]

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[1] Charles Poole Cleaves was born at Yarmouth, Maine in 1869. He was the son of Thomas and Julia Poole Cleaves.  He graduated from the Bangor Theological Seminary in 1893. Upon graduating Charles became a Congregationalist minister. He also became a husband, marrying Alice Lawrence in June of that year. He was pastor of several New England congregations over the years, mostly in Maine.  He wrote many articles and poems for magazines such as Youth’s Companion, Congregationalist, and Harper’s. In 1904 he published the novel A Case of Sardines: A Story of the Maine Coast.  (Source: Who’s Who in New England, 1909, by Albert N. Marquis)

My Rosary

The hours I spent with thee dear heart,

Are as a string of pearls to me.

I count them o’er each one apart.

My rosary, my rosary.

Each hour a pearl, each pearl a prayer,

To still a heart in absence wrung,

I tell each bead until the end.

And there a cross is hung.

Oh, memories that bless and burn.

Oh, barren gain, oh, bitter loss!

I touch each bead at last to learn.

To kiss the cross, sweet heart,

To kiss the cross.

Alone with God

Alone with God!  There thou shalt find

The blessing only he can give:

A will subdued, a lowly mind,

A loving heart by grace refined,

And strength for him to live.

Alone with God!  Communion sweet

With him shall cheer thee all the way.

Though weak, thou art in him complete.

His power alone can make thee meet

For heaven’s unending day.

-       Selected

An Evening Prayer

If I have wounded any soul today,

If I have caused one foot to go astray,

If I have walked in my own willful way—

Good Lord, forgive!

If I have uttered idle words or vain,

If I have turned aside from want or pain,

Lest I myself should suffer through the strain---

Good Lord, forgive!

If I have craved for joys that are not mine,

If I have let my wayward heart repine,

Dwelling on things on earth, not things divine—

Good Lord, forgive!

If I have been perverse, or hard, or cold,

If I have longed for shelter in thy fold

When thou hast given me some port to hold—

Good Lord, forgive!

Forgive the sins I have confessed to thee,

Forgive the secret sins I do not see,

That which I knew not, Father, teach thou me—

Help me to live!

-       C. Maud Battersby[1]

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[1] C. Maude (the attribution misspells her name) Battersby (1856-1932) was an author of such diverse books as Gaspar, the Story of a Street Arab (1891) and Seven Times in the Fire: a Story of France in the Revolution (1892). But she also wrote verse, and it is for the above 1911 poem that she is remembered.  Set to music by Charles H. Gabriel, it is immensely popular even today. It has been translated into many languages, appears in dozens of hymnals, and has been recorded by many notable performers.