Let silent prayer the fury mend
Oh, speak not swift with bitter flame,
Nor hasten words to curse or blame.
First call upon the holy name—
The fount of mercy, free of shame.
For wrath may wound and pride may blind,
And anger bends the doubting mind.
But prayer resounds where hate falls still,
And bids the fractured soul to heal.
Pray for the hearts that bear the crown,
The ones who build and tear things down.
Pray for the lost, the callous hand,
The tyrant’s rule, the weary land.
For words are seeds of peace or strife—
They conjure death or kindle life.
So plead for grace, both fierce and true,
To tame the rage that rages you.
Then when the Spirit guides your breath,
Speak love that conquers fear and death.
A word well prayed will bridge the rift,
And turn the curse into a gift.

Leave a comment