A Prayer by James Weldon Johnson

O Lord, we come this morning
Knee-bowed and body-bent
Before thy throne of grace.
O Lord – this morning –
Bow our hearts beneath our knees,
And our knees in some lonesome valley.
We come this morning –
Like empty pitchers to a full fountain,
With no merits of our own.
O Lord – open up a window of heaven,
And lean out far over the battlements of glory,
And listen this morning.

And now, Lord, this man of God
Who breaks the bread of life this morning –
Shadow him in the hollow of thy hand
And keep him out of the gunshot of the devil.
Take him, Lord – this morning –
Wash him with hyssop inside and out,
Hang him up and drain him dry of sin.
Pin his ear to the wisdom post,
And make his words sledge-hammers of truth –
Beating on the iron heart of sin.
Lord God, this morning –
Put his eye to the telescope of eternity,
And let him look upon the paper walls of time.
Lord, turpentine his imagination,
Put perpetual motion in his arms,
Fill him full of the dynamite of thy power,
Anoint him all over with the oil of thy salvation,
And set his tongue on fire.

And now, O Lord –
When I’ve done drunk my last cup of sorrow –
When I’ve been called everything but a child of God –
When I’ve done travelling up the rough side of the mountain –
O – Mary’s Baby –
When I start down the steep and slippery steps of death –
Lower me to my dusty grave in peace
To wait for that great gettin’ up morning – Amen.