Child, amidst the flowers at play, <br />While the red light fades away; <br />Mother, with thine earnest eye, <br />Ever following silently; <br />Father, by the breeze of eve, <br />Call'd thy harvest-work to leave - <br />Pray: ere yet the dark hours be, <br />Lift the heart, and bend the knee! <br /> <br />Traveller, in the stranger's land, <br />Far from thine own household band; <br />Mourner, haunted by the tone <br />Of a voice from this world gone; <br />Captive, in whose narrow cell <br />Sunshine hath not leave to dwell; <br />Sailor, on the dark'ning sea- <br />Lift the heart, and bend the knee! <br /> <br />Warrior, that from battle won, <br />Breathest now at set of sun; <br />Woman, o'er the lowly slain, <br />Weeping on his burial plain: <br />Ye that triumph, ye that sigh, <br />Kindred by one holy tie, <br />Heaven's first star alike ye see- <br />Lift the heart, and bend the knee!<br /><br />Felicia Dorothea Hemans<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-hour-of-prayer/
