The Logic of the Logos
“Come now and let us reason together, saith the Lord.”

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A Prayer

Lord, Thou knowest better Than I know myself that
I am growing older, and will someday be old.

Keep me from getting talkative, and particularly
from the fatal habit of thinking that I must say
something on every subject and on every occasion.

Release me from craving to try to straighten out
everybody’s affairs.

Keep my mind free from the recital of endless
details—give me wings to get to the point.

I ask for grace enough to listen to the tales of
others’ pains. Help me to endure them with patience.

But seal my lips on my own aches and pains—they
are increasing, and my love of rehearsing them is
becoming sweeter as the years go by.

Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally it
is possible that I may be mistaken.

Keep me reasonably sweet; I do not want to be a
saint—some of them are so hard to live with—but
a sour old person is one of the crowning works of
the devil.

Make me thoughtful, but not moody; helpful, but
not bossy. With my vast store of wisdom, it seems
a pity not to use it at all—but Thou knowest, Lord,
that I want a few friends at the end.

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