In Thee O Lord

Afraid, Dear Lord? No; not afraid

Of Thy Judgment's Just decree.

But ashamed, my God. Ah! yes, ashamed

To lift my eyes to Thee.

When the sands of life are drifting out 

And I stand on death's lone pier. 

My heart may sink with an honest shame,

But never a thought of fear.

Ashamed of One Whom I dearly love,
Who gave me a work to do,
Who coming at even findeth me
To my noble Friend untrue.
But fear, my God! Why should I fear?
You formed and fashioned the clay,
You knew the feeble thing I was
When you gave me the light of day.

The small, mean gifts that are mine to give
Other eyes would not deign to see, 
But You stoop to take with a loving smile,
Well knowing 'tis only me.
If I feared Thee, Lord, I could not go on,
Then I'll choose the better part―
I will hide myself and my broken life
In the depths of Thy Sacred Heart.

I will kneel at Thy feet and with head bowed low

In shame at the waste of years,

But hopeful still, for my crucified God

Yet waiteth my penitent tears.

With Life's page all blurs and blots throughout

I will trust Thee on to the end,

For there waits at the lonely pier of death

My kindest, truest Friend.

Prayers of an Irish Mother

Dublin, 1920