The Joy of Prayer

                  By: Susan Davis
 
I often thing of praying and the measure of the gift,
To dock with you in safety while the world remains adrift;
 
Once a poor and dying sinner, yet You took me for Your own,
A lost, wayfaring stranger, asked to come before Your throne;
 
In a single peaceful moment, I will turn my thoughts Your way,
And tell You the burdens I've collected through the day;
 
I will praise You for the blessings You've so kindly granted me,
Regardless of my stumbling, how unworthy I must be;
 
I love You with such fervor, I will long to find the words
To describe Your endless wisdom in some way You have not heard;
 
As I tell You of the troubles of this life that's fleeting by,
The comfort of Your scriptures often comes as my reply;
 
Never have I come to You and left without Your peace,
Embarrassed that I've ever asked you for  a life of ease;
 
For as long as You are taking all the sorrow from my heart, 
What greater blessing could I know than just to be a part
 
Of the family You are building with such slow and patient skill,
May I have but one desire, to be faithful to Your will;
 
Then in quiet stillness, I will lean upon Your breast,
Without You I am nothing, but with You I am my best;
 
The peace that prayer affords me, yet more proof of Your sweet grace, 
May I never fail t humbly bow before my Father's face,
 
May I never be too busy, seeking ways but to postpone,
When the joy I find in prayer, is the greatest that I've known