Читать книгу Psalms of Gratitude and Prayer - John J. Brugaletta - Страница 13

Hear me, Lord, secluded here

in this closed and quiet place.

Surely You attend our prayers

anywhere we call to You.

Still, the human mind, it seems,

wavers like a candle flame,

moved aside by every hiss,

upward and intent on You

only when the air is still.

Pain and anguish forge their own

upright highway to your home,

but our daily talk desires

isolation and the calm

of a pair who sit and talk,

all their children now asleep.

Hear me, Lord, my nagging chores

set aside to be performed

when You’ve filled my lungs with life.

Needs of family and friends

will not draw my thoughts from You

if I hold them to your eyes.

Now the thick, diurnal dust

of a thousand minor aches,

with a hundred pinprick jabs,

umbrage taken, nurtured close—

now I ask You clear away.

Either pull them from my soul,

or if it be more your will,

let my inward ear be deaf

to their buzzing. Let me be

wholly focused on our talk

here in this secluded place,

here where holiness resides

for the moment, for this day.