185. I Want to Be Thy Cleansed Bird of Paradise
With golden plumes of spiritual unfoldment, with the softest down of tender feeling, and decked out in a costume of color and graceful beauty, I am Thy soul‐bird of paradise. My wings, sped by the eager desire to progress, beat their way through life’s somber skies in continuous search of the paradise of peace.
Despondency has sometimes daubed dark colors on the fragile feathers of my bright, sunny mind.
Oh! Bathe me, Thy bird of paradise, with the cleansing sun‐rays of insight, and soothe me with Thy soft‐singing melodies of peace.