A child's everlasting Prayer

A Prayer

O Lord, I come to Thee
On bended knee,
To this Thy shrine,
This holy place of Thine,
To pray.
To pray for peace,
That war may cease,
And that all mankind
Will not be blind to God.
I thank You for the things You’ve done
Throughout the day, each little one
I treasure dear. So Lord,
Please hear my prayer to You.
Forgive me for those things done wrong,
I’ll try, as I’ve tried all along,
To do Thy will:
And I’ll try still,
Until I die.

The above was originally written when I was a boy of fourteen, way back in the dark ages --- well, in 1957 actually. It was my very first piece of published poetry, and was published in the church magazine of St Bartholomew's Church in Corsham, Wiltshire, (UK), when I was sixteen, after which it appeared in several other church magazines as well.

One very special thing about this poem is that it has weathered the years well, and is as appealing to people today as it ever was. I think that the reason is simply that the sentiment expressed in this poem is timeless.

I have one particular memory regarding this poem:
It was one Thursday in the Summer of 1961, and being a Thursday afternoon it was my half-day off from work. At that time I worked for Weaver to Wearer, a retail tailoring establishment in Bath. I was on my way home, sitting on the upper deck of the bus in the front seat, and opposite me there were two ladies who, it didn't take long to discover, were on vacation from Canada. They were travelling to Corsham to look around, having been recommended to check out the history of the place.

Having nothing particular to do I offered to show them around, thereby ensuring that they would see as much of the town as possible within the relatively short time that they would be there. I showed them the Flemish Buildings, the Almshouses, Corsham Court, and all the main buildings that I felt would be of interest to them. It was a great afternoon, and one that I still remember vividly after all these years. It was whilst we were at the approach to Corsham Court that the ladies asked if they could look around the church, the entrance to which shares the same approach as the Court.

Once inside they showed great interest in everything, exclaiming every now and then on one particular aspect or another. As they came to the table which had various books and so on, available for visitors, they picked up the latest issue of the church magazine and started to thumb through it. As they did, so they came across this poem, and said how good it was, although I declined the information that I had written it. Even though it bore my name they only knew my Christian name at that point.

Soon their visit was drawing to a close and as a way of saying 'Thank you' for my time and company, they offered to take me for the 'Strawberry Tea' that we had seen advertised at Aust's, a small shop where Mr Aust sold prints of old maps, and Mrs Aust was a purveyor of Strawberry Teas. Over tea --- which I can still recall the taste of! --- the ladies questioned me about the poem and I finally admitted that it was indeed written by me a couple of years prior.

I had a letter about a week later updating me regarding their travels, they having removed from my home area down to Hampshire for a while before returning to Canada. They promised to write again, and in time I received a lovely letter from one of the ladies, now back in her own domicile, and in this letter she reiterated her thanks for 'what had been a lovely afternoon when they had enjoyed not only my town but also my company,' commenting that she had cut my poem from the church magazine and pasted it into her diary in order to read it every day, adding that it would remind her of both the afternoon and of me.

Not a major incident, perhaps, but certainly a memorable one. After all, here I am, after almost fifty years, recalling and recounting it for your interest, dear reader.