181. Teach Me to Conquer Discord by Holding Close My Own Harmony
I care not if the shell-fire of trials whistle around me. And I take no notice of salvo-shots launched in my honor. I mind not if machine-guns of mischief pour their shot at me; for when Thou art with me I am safe behind ramparts of liquid fire; but without Thee, I am unsafe even in the most impregnable fort of modern science. I seek not to rouse the wrath of others and awaken their fiery tempers, but I thank Thee for Thy rock-of-refuge in the hidden recess of my soul.
Bless me that I may heal the shrapnel wounds of inharmony in the flesh of circumstances.
Teach me to dethrone darkness by Thy triumphal coronation, O King Light.
Bless me, that I may be the salve of smiles to melancholy souls; the soothing shower to arid minds; the sentry of light, chasing away the thief of gloom; the nectar of peace to sorrow-parched hearts; the glow of kindness to dispel black cruelty.
Teach me to conquer discord by my octopus-grip on my own harmony. By sincerity, teach me to conquer insincerity. Bless me, that I may overcome the habit of idle criticism of others by censuring myself instead.
And teach me to give the nectar-opiate of Thy peace to groaning minds, that they may rest in Thee.