Lord of courtesy, you’ve brought the corn
In, you’ve hung the trees with ripe, rich fruit,
Master of tides, you’re cooling down the sea,
Watcher at horizons, you’ll deliver
Most ships securely at home.
But Master of the moon, this world is dark
With terror, evil, not dark like dark of space
And stars. O God, save us from our fraught selves,
Put prayer into our minds. Be in the shrine
Of vivid, innocent imaginations.
Receive the love there is, Lord, help all nations.
In this season of thanks, let us pray for all fraught souls, those heavy laden with sorrow, the oppressed, the lost, and discouraged. May each one reach into the eternal harvest of gratitude that opens to those, who have passed through suffering and loss. Sustain us, Oh Master of the tides, with appreciation for the simple gifts of life. Amen.
I have loved this poem for years, but somehow lost the name of the author. If you know, please leave the name in the comments. I would like to give credit for this beautiful piece of writing.