If my voice I may not raise In the elders' song of praise, If I may not, sin-defiled, Claim my birthright as a child, Suffer it that I to Thee As an hired servant be; Let the lowliest task be mine, Grateful, so the work be Thine; Let me find the humblest place In the shadow of Thy grace Blest to me were any spot Where temptation whispers not. If there be some weaker one, Give me strength to help him on If a blinder soul there be, Let me guide him nearer Thee. Make my mortal dreams come true With the work I fain would do; Clothe with life the weak intent, Let me be the thing I meant; Let me find in Thy employ Peace that dearer is than joy; Out of self to love be led And to heaven acclimated, Until all things sweet and good Seem my natural habitude. . . . . So we read the prayer of him Who, with John of Labadie, Trod, of old, the oozy rim Of the Zuyder Zee. Thus did Andrew Rykman pray. Are we wiser, better grown, That we may not, in our day, Make his prayer our own? THE ANSWER. Spare me, dread angel of reproof, And let the sunshine weave to-day Its gold-threads in the warp and woof Of life so poor and gray. Spare me awhile; the flesh is weak. These lingering feet, that fain would stray Among the flowers, shall some day seek The strait and narrow way. Take off thy ever-watchful eye, The awe of thy rebuking frown; The dullest slave at times must sigh To fling his burdens down; To drop his galley's straining oar, And press, in summer warmth and calm, The lap of some enchanted shore Of blossom and of balm. Grudge not my life its hour of bloom, My heart its taste of long desire; This day be mine: be those to come As duty shall require. The deep voice answered to my own, Smiting my selfish prayers away; "To-morrow is with God alone, And man hath but to-day. "Say not, thy fond, vain heart within, The Father's arm shall still be wide, When from these pleasant ways of sin Thou turn'st at eventide. "'Cast thyself down,' the tempter saith, 'And angels shall thy feet upbear.' He bids thee make a lie of faith, And blasphemy of prayer. "Though God be good and free be heaven, No force divine can love compel; And, though the song of sins forgiven May sound through lowest hell, "The sweet persuasion of His voice Respects thy sanctity of will. He giveth day: thou hast thy choice To walk in darkness still; "As one who, turning from the light, Watches his own gray shadow fall, Doubting, upon his path of night, If there be day at all!