Prayer of the Trail
By Alberta Huish Christensen
‘Tis not for weary hands, dear Lord, I pray,
Although the handcart makes them callous-worn;
And not for balm, the hurting to allay
Of bruised and bandaged feet, is this prayer born.
The lantern of my faith tonight burns low,
Unless it be renewed, I cannot go
Such endless miles as still before us lie.
But if re-kindled, Lord, ah, then I know
I can file on, nor ever count the cost
Of all the things for conscience’ sake I lost:
I can forget how friends, entreating, cried:
Even forget our parting, — his low voice —
His words that spoke the scorn his kiss denied —
If I but feel the wisdom of my choice.
And so for that — to keep faith’s torch alight —
And only that, — dear God, I pray tonight!
— Co-Winner of 1934
Eliza R. Snow Memorial Poem Contest
Relief Society Magazine