A Prayer

Hermits and blameless women full of Grace,
To raise the heart into celestial space.
In storm and strife below to strengthen it,
A host of holy orisons have writ;
But one of all the multitudinous host
Of orison and praise has moved me most,
A prayer repeated by the priest in Lent,
In the dark days of fasting and lament
Upon my lips more often it will dwell —
And breathe on the faint soul a vital spell:
“O Ruler of my days! Ward off from me
The evil angel of despondency
And sloth; and let not from my lips be heard
The sharp repeating of the idle word;
Save me from lust, that snake which lives within;
And let me not be blind to my own sin,
Blind to my brother’s trespass let me,
Quicken the spirit of consent in me,
Of love, long-suffering and of chastity.”