The Wilmington morning star., 1943-12-25
A Christmas Prayer
BY PAUL WARWICK

ILLS morning, y heavenly Father, wish
You would turn me Wrongside cut
I'm fine one to be telling You but there
are millions of Your people in this war.torn
world who are all shiny and bright inside
Where their secret dreams LIE sleeping. but
VINO give off no glow at all when YOU look
at the part that shows.
Help me and all those Others Lord to wake
up those ideals and urge there into action
Help me get control of the little things: the
ugly careless habits Of thought and words
and deeds that are blenishes On what You
intended to be my immortal soul. Then. the
things that matter most will take care of
themselves
10 bulWark the unity our nation needs to-
day. and as personal habit, Lord help me
to be tolerant, even of intolerance Let me
not only cling close to the doctrine of live
and-let-llve with my everyday neighbors, but
make me man enough to reason CALMLY with
my friend when he unthinklngly echoes some
banal but deadly opinion or epithet-charged
with racial, religious or personal prejudice
which does not spring from patriotic motives
Save me from the cowardiv sm.rk of agree
ment, when I don't agree at all.
Keep me from bigotry and false pride .
and let me feel the same degree of warm
self-satsfacton from the friendly smile Of
my lowliest acquaintance as I do from the
infrequent handshake Of the mighty.
Stay my touuge from gossip and backbit.
ing and make me think instead of so
living that evil things may mol be said of
me when I'm the one who leaves the room
Let humility stuff out envy of others success;
let good will drown my thoughtless criticism;
let me be generous in praise for those who
still have ears to hear it.
Let me not cravenly turn my head, NUT.
tering unconvincingly to myself about the
miserable pittance 1 give 10 charity, when
a ragged, begging dcrellct aocosts me on
the street but give me ample grace to
hear the poor devils story for what it may
be worth.
When wander into frantic worry and futile
fears remind me of that dark night o.
boyhood, when the ghostly footsteps which
pursued me, faster and ever faster, across the
vacant lot turned out to be the ribs Of my
corduroy breeches, rubbing against each
other.
Teach me to think again the simple
thoughts.
Let me be brave enough to say 1 don't
like smutty stories, if that be inconsistent
with tolerance, let at least refrain from
| replying in kind. aud cause me instead tc
think as I thought on day in my childhood
when found late autumn flower, fullblown,
imprisoned in early ice.
Let my shame at needless profanity arrive
two seconds before. instead of one second
after, the impulse to utter blaspnemy d. :.
and let me remember more often the reli-
| gious awe I felt when first heard the surf
pounding on the stormswept shore.
Guard me from illusion that listeners are
held in thrall by my tales OF bygone hang
overs and let me taste, instead, in men,
DRY, the unaffected ecstacy of my first orange
with a hole cut in top by the kitchen knife.
Let there be no moment of any day, Lord,
when my love for loved ones is not eloquent
ly manifest in my words and actions; let
not my preoccupation nth Other things cast
a shadow over the steady light Of my devo-
ton.
Keep me from petty lrrisations. Let the i'm
pulse to hug my son nard TO my chest flow
over me when eager, confident questions are
| about to irk me into lmpaHence as well
| as when l see him IN soldier-cowboy- airplane
dreams on his midnight pillow.
These are just samples, Lord What I mean
is - while You need all of us SC much - let
me play an everlasting parley on the little
good that's in me let me pyramid my
worthwhile emotions into jo'. of work that
Will really count for my family . for
my friends =. for my country . for my
fellow men and through them all for You.
With all my heart ask it, Lord Amen.
Atlantic Constitution.