Angels are round the good man, to catch the incense of his prayers, And they fly to minister kindness to those for whom he pleadeth; For the altar of his heart is lighted, and burneth before God continually, And he breatheth, conscious of his joy, the native atmosphere of heaven: Yea, though poor, and contemned, and ignorant of this world's wisdom, Ill can his fellows spare him, though they know not of his value. Thousands bewail a hero, and a nation mourneth for its king, But the whole universe lamenteth the loss of a man of prayer. Verily, were it not for One, who sitteth on His rightful throne, Crowned with a rainbow of emerald, the green memorial of earth,-- For One, a mediating man, that hath clad His Godhead with mortality, And offereth prayer without ceasing, the royal priest of Nature, Matter and life and mind had sunk into dark annihilation, And the lightning frown of Justice withered the world into nothing. Thus, O worshipper of reason, thou hast heard the sum of the matter: And woe to his hairy scalp that restraineth prayer before God. Prayer is a creature's strength, his very breath and being; Prayer is the golden key that can open the wicket of Mercy: Prayer is the magic sound that saith to Fate, So be it; Prayer is the slender nerve that moveth the muscles of Omnipotence. Wherefore, pray, O creature, for many and great are thy wants; Thy mind, thy conscience, and thy being, thy rights commend thee unto prayer, The cure of all cares, the grand panacea for all pains, Doubt's destroyer, ruin's remedy, the antidote to all anxieties. So then, God is true, and yet He hath not changed: It is He that sendeth the petition, to answer it according to His will. [Illustration] THE LORD'S PRAYER.