A Gleaner’s Prayer

Dear Father, where ere I may go

Let love and courage crown my head.

Let modesty my mantle be

Though pain and sorrow be my bed.

I go to glean the fields of life

To gather from among the sheaves

The chosen stalks of golden grain

With which eternal life I weave.

The Answer

Go not to glean another field,

But stay, abide here fast in mine

That thou might choicest blessings reap

That joy ere’ lasting might be thine.

And when your harvest eve has come

“Blessed be thou,” I’ll say to thee,

“For thou hast gleaned this harvest well

And laid thy sheaf down unto me.”