Thou foldest me in sickness; <br />Thou callest through the cloud; <br />I batter with the thickness <br />Of the swathing, blinding shroud: <br />Oh, let me see thy face, <br />The only perfect grace <br />That thou canst show thy child. <br /> <br />0 father, being-giver, <br />Take off the sickness-cloud; <br />Saviour, my life deliver <br />From this dull body-shroud: <br />Till I can see thy face <br />I am not full of grace, <br />I am not reconciled.<br /><br />George MacDonald<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-prayer-in-sickness/
