THIS gloomy northern day, <br />Or this yet gloomier night, <br />Has moved a something high <br />In my cold heart; and I, <br />That do not often pray, <br />Would pray to-night. <br /> <br />And first on Thee I call <br />For bread, O God of might! <br />Enough of bread for all, - <br />That through the famished town <br />Cold hunger may lie down <br />With none to-night. <br /> <br />I pray for hope no less, <br />Strong-sinewed hope, O Lord, <br />That to the struggling young <br />May preach with brazen tongue <br />Stout Labour, high success, <br />And bright reward. <br /> <br />And last, O Lord, I pray <br />For hearts resigned and bold <br />To trudge the dusty way - <br />Hearts stored with song and joke <br />And warmer than a cloak <br />Against the cold. <br /> <br />If nothing else he had, <br />He who has this, has all. <br />This comforts under pain; <br />This, through the stinging rain, <br />Keeps ragamuffin glad <br />Behind the wall. <br /> <br />This makes the sanded inn <br />A palace for a Prince, <br />And this, when griefs begin <br />And cruel fate annoys, <br />Can bring to mind the joys <br />Of ages since.<br /><br />Robert Louis Stevenson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/this-gloomy-northern-day/
