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One Day (Poem)

Lord, long ago I brought to Thee my years,
Each new-born year, and whilst I held it fast,
Sense of possession somewhat marred my fears,
Prayed I might treat it better than the last.
But oh! so soon it copied those of yore
That in my keen distress I wished it gone,
That I might turn the blotted page once more,
And try the next to cleanly write upon.
It was so long—a year—so many things
Happened to cool my zeal and clip my wings.
So now I bring to Thee each tiny day,
Just the few hours betwixt the dawn and eve;
And for Thy guidance and protection pray,
Then all anxieties behind me leave.
And lo! scarce seems it that my task I scan,
That I have added up one duty-sum,
Or solved a fraction of life's opening plan,
Ere Thou dost whisper: "Rest, for night has come."
And on my knees I thank Thee who dost keep
Each little day safe shut with doors of sleep.


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Florence M. Solomon

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