A Prayer In Darkness

This much, O heaven—if I should brood or rave,
Pity me not; but let the world be fed,
Yea, in my madness if I strike me dead,
Heed you the grass that grows upon my grave.

If I dare snarl between this sun and sod,
Whimper and clamour, give me grace to own,
In sun and rain and fruit in season shown,
The shining silence of the scorn of God.

Thank God the stars are set beyond my power,
If I must travail in a night of wrath,
Thank God my tears will never vex a moth,
Nor any curse of mine cut down a flower.

Men say the sun was darkened: yet I had
Thought it beat brightly, even on—Calvary:
And He that hung upon the Torturing Tree
Heard all the crickets singing, and was glad.

by Gilbert Keith Chesterton

Other poems of CHESTERTON (95)

Comments (11)

An arresting religious poem, with some unexpected paradoxes: 'And He that hung upon the Torturing Tree/ Heard all the crickets singing, and was glad.' At his best, Chesterton still speaks to us in his poems-like this one- and a few novels.
A beautiful prayer to God wet with divine wishes, thanks for the sharing.
I relate to and appreciate the awareness Chesterton shows here for his own negativity and his not wanting to foist it on things in nature which he loves. The last stanza made me smile. And there’s a muscularity in his word choice I like. -GK
Poem Hunter is the most boring poetry site on the net.
The world and Nature persist despite our; raves and snarls'
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