Evening Prayer

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NOT to the terrible God, avenging, bright,
  Whose altars struck their roots in flame and blood,
Not to the jealous God, whose merciless might
  The infamy of unclean years withstood;
But to the God who lit the evening star,
  Who taught the flower to blossom in delight,
Who taught His world what love and worship are
  We pray, we two, to-night.


To no vast Presence too immense to love,
  To no enthronèd King too great to care,
To no strange Spirit human needs above
  We bring our little, intimate, heart-warm prayer;
But to the God who is a Father too,
  The Father who loved and gave His only Son
We pray across the cradle, I and you,
  For ours, our little one!

© Edith Nesbit