Albert Durrant Watson

A Prayer

O THOU whose finger-tips,
  From out the unveiled universe around,
  Can touch my human lips
With harmonies beyond the range of sound;

  Whose living word,
All vital truth revealing,
  My soul hath stirred
To raptures holy, comforting and healing;

  Beneath, around, above,
Breathe on me atmospheres
  Of universal Love–
The music of the timeless years;

  Upon my soul,
Pour vast eternities of might,
  Up through my being roll
Deep seas of light
  To urge me onward to the Goal,
  The Infinite, the Whole.