VII.

She prays so long! she prays so late! What sin in all this flower-land Against her supplicating hand Could have in heaven any weight?

Prays she for her sweet self alone? Prays she for some one far away, Or some one near and dear to-day, Or some poor, lorn, lost soul unknown?

It seems to me a selfish thing To pray forever for one's self; It seems to me like heaping pelf In heaven by hard reckoning.

Why, I would rather stoop, and bear My load of sin, and bear it well And bravely down to burning hell, Than ever pray one selfish prayer!