Come near to me, I need Thy glorious presence.
    Through the dense darkness of this troubled hour
Shine on my soul, and fill it with the essence
    Of Thy pervading and uplifting power.
       Come near, come near to me!

Come nearer yet, I have no strength to reach Thee;
    My soul is like a bird with broken wings.
Lean down from Thy fair height of peace, and teach me
    The balm Thy touch to mortal bruises brings.
       Lean down, O God, lean down!

Come near, and yet if those eternal places
    Hold greater tasks to occupy Thy hands,
Send Thy blest angels whose celestial faces
    Smile sometimes on us from the spirit lands.
       Send one, send one to me!

I must have help. I am so weak and broken
    I cannot help myself. I know not how
That moral force of which so much is spoken
    Will not sustain or fortify me now.
       I must, I must have help!

Some outside aid, some strength from spirit Sources,
    We all must have in hours like this, or die.
To one, or all of those mysterious Forces
    Which men call God, I lift my voice and cry,
       Come near, come near to me!

Yesterdays. By Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
London: Gay & Hancock, 1916.

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