If I Should Pray

If I should pray, I think
That my prayer should be: "Let my hands
Never learn the ending of their task."
For if Eternity is rest, then am I undone!
For how may the adoration, which beats
Like a temple bell within me, cease?
How may this great Urge, which He
In His wisdom hath swung my soul upon, cease?
Oh, if I should pray, I think my prayer
Should be, that my hands might never
Find the ending of their task.
If I should pray, I think my prayer should be:
"Let me never become weary." For the adoration,
Which is the wine of my being-this great
All-encircling Love for Him,
Is a consuming fire, and there is nothing
Which may ever quench its flame if I labor.
The symbol of my existence through eternity is
Before me, for there is nothing
That He hath created that doth not swing in labor.
Behold, beneath the purple canopy,
Which o'erspreadeth His throne, the stars move
In ceaseless agony, and planets write,
And the sun drives the universes
With his head lifted far, far above the hosts,
And the moon is busy, busy, soothing, soothing,
And lending her silver to the beggar Night.
So, why should I cease? Nay, if I should pray,
I think my prayer should be, that my hands
Should never find the ending of their tasks.