The Lords Prayer

        "Audemus dicere Pater Noster."-CANON OF THE MASS.

                There is a bolder way,
    There is a wilder enterprise than this
    All-human iteration day by day.
    Courage, mankind!    Restore Him what is His.

                Out of His mouth were given
    These phrases.    O replace them whence they came.
    He, only, knows our inconceivable "Heaven,"
    Our hidden "Father," and the unspoken "Name";

                Our "trespasses," our "bread,"
    The "will" inexorable yet implored;
    The miracle-words that are and are not said,
    Charged with the unknown purpose of their Lord.

                "Forgive," "give," "lead us not"-
    Speak them by Him, O man the unaware,
    Speak by that dear tongue, though thou know not what,
    Shuddering through the paradox of prayer.

Alice Meynell

Alice Meynell was an English writer, editor, critic, and suffragist, now remembered mainly as a poet. Born on September 11, 1847, she grew up in a literary family and published her first book of poems, "Preludes," in 1875. She married the editor Wilfrid Meynell in 1877 and joined him in literary and journalistic endeavors. Meynell's worked in the women's suffrage movement, advocating for her rights through her writings. She died on November 27, 1922, leaving behind a legacy of lyrical and meditative poetry.

Alice Meynell

To Tintoretto In Venice

Alice Meynell, Simple Poetry

The Poet To His Childhood

Alice Meynell, Simple Poetry

The Divine Privilege

Alice Meynell, Simple Poetry

The Shepherdess

Alice Meynell, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

The Lord's Prayer. From Proverbial Philosophy

Inquirest thou, man, wherewithal may I come unto the Lord?
And with what wonder-working sounds may I move the majesty of heaven?
There is a model to thy hand; upon that do thou frame thy supplication;
Wisdom hath measured its words; and redemption urgeth thee to use them.
Call thy God thy Father, and yet not thine alone,
For thou art but one of many, thy brotherhood is with all:
Remember his high estate, that he dwelleth King of Heaven;
So shall thy thoughts be humbled, nor love be unmixed with reverence:
Be thy first petition unselfish, the honour of Him who made thee.
And that in the depths of thy heart his memory be shrined in holiness:
Pray for that blessed time, when good shall triumph over evil.
And one universal temple echo the perfections of Jehovah:
Bend thou to his good...

Martin Farquhar Tupper

Translations. - The Lord's Prayer, Briefly And Plainly Set Forth, And Turned Into Metre. (Luther's Song-Book.)

Our Father in the heaven who art,
Who tellest all of us, in heart
Brothers to be, and on thee call,
And wilt have prayer from us all--
Grant, not from mouth alone it flow;
From deepest heart oh let it go!

Hallowed be thy name, O Lord;
Amongst us oh keep pure thy word,
That we too may live holily,
And in thy true name worthily!
Defend us, Lord, from lying lore;
Thy poor misguided folk restore.

Thy kingdom come now here below!
And after there on ever go!
The Holy Ghost his temple hold
In us with graces manifold!
The devil's wrath and greatness strong
Crush, that he do thy church no wrong.

Thy will be done the same, Lord God,
On earth as in thy high abode!
In pain give patience for relief,
Obedience in love and grief;

George MacDonald

The Universal Prayer.

("Ma fille, va prier!")

[XXXVII., June, 1830.]


I.

Come, child, to prayer; the busy day is done,
A golden star gleams through the dusk of night;
The hills are trembling in the rising mist,
The rumbling wain looms dim upon the sight;
All things wend home to rest; the roadside trees
Shake off their dust, stirred by the evening breeze.

The sparkling stars gush forth in sudden blaze,
As twilight open flings the doors of night;
The fringe of carmine narrows in the west,
The rippling waves are tipped with silver light;
The bush, the path - all blend in one dull gray;
The doubtful traveller gropes his anxious way.

Oh, day! with toil, with wrong, with hatred rife;
Oh, blessed night! with sober calmness sweet,
The sad wind...

Victor-Marie Hugo

The Doubter's Prayer

Eternal Power, of earth and air!
Unseen, yet seen in all around,
Remote, but dwelling everywhere,
Though silent, heard in every sound.

If e'er thine ear in mercy bent,
When wretched mortals cried to Thee,
And if, indeed, Thy Son was sent,
To save lost sinners such as me:

Then hear me now, while, kneeling here,
I lift to thee my heart and eye,
And all my soul ascends in prayer,
Oh, give me, give me Faith! I cry.

Without some glimmering in my heart,
I could not raise this fervent prayer;
But, oh! a stronger light impart,
And in Thy mercy fix it there.

While Faith is with me, I am blest;
It turns my darkest night to day;
But while I clasp it to my breast,
I often feel it slide away.

Then, cold and dark, my spirit ...

Anne Bronte

Of Prayer. From Proverbial Philosophy

A WICKED man scorneth prayer, in the shallow sophistry of reason.
He derideth the silly hope that God can be moved by supplication: 
Can the unchangeable be changed, or waver in his purpose?
Can the weakness of pity affect him? Should he turn at the bidding of a man?
Methought lie ruled all things, and ye called his decrees immutable,
But if thus he listeneth to words, wherein is the firmness of his will? 
So I heard the speech of the wicked, and, lo, it was smoother than oil;
But I knew that his reasonings were false, for the promise of the Scripture is true:
Yet was my soul in darkness, for his words were too hard for me;
Till I turned to my God in prayer: for I know He heareth always.
Then I looked abroad on the earth, and, behold, the Lord was in all things;
Yet saw I not his ha...

Martin Farquhar Tupper

On A Prayer-Book, With its Frontispiece, Ary Scheffers "Christus Consolator," Americanized By The Omission of The Black Man

O Ary Scheffer! when beneath thine eye,
Touched with the light that cometh from above,
Grew the sweet picture of the dear Lord's love,
No dream hadst thou that Christian hands would tear
Therefrom the token of His equal care,
And make thy symbol of His truth a lie!
The poor, dumb slave whose shackles fall away
In His compassionate gaze, grubbed smoothly out,
To mar no more the exercise devout
Of sleek oppression kneeling down to pray
Where the great oriel stains the Sabbath day!
Let whoso can before such praying-books
Kneel on his velvet cushion; I, for one,
Would sooner bow, a Parsee, to the sun,
Or tend a prayer-wheel in Thibetar brooks,
Or beat a drum on Yedo's temple-floor.
No falser idol man has bowed before,
In Indian groves or islands of the sea,

John Greenleaf Whittier

The Lords Prayer

Suggested Poems

The Lords Prayer