At Prayer Meeting

There were only two or three of us
Who came to the place of prayer—
Came in the teeth of a driving storm;
But for that we did not care,
Since after our hymns of praise had risen,
And our earnest prayers were said,
The Master Himself was present there
And gave us the living, bread.

We knew His look in our leader̓s face
So rapt and glad and free:
We felt His touch when our heads were bowed.
We heard His “Come to me.”
Nobody saw Him lift the latch,
And none unbarred the door;
But “peace” was His token to every heart,
And how could we ask for more?

Each of us felt the load of sin
From the weary shoulders fall:
Each of us dropped the load of care,
And the grief that̓s like a pail
And o̓er our spirits a blessed calm
Swept in from the Jasper sea,
And strength was ours for toil and strife
In the days that were thence to be.

It was only a handful gathered in
To the little place of prayer;
Outside were struggle and pain and sin,
But the Lord Himself was there
He came to redeem the pledge He gave—
Wherever His loved ones be
To stand Himself in the midst of them
Though they count but two or three.

And forth we faced In the bitter rain
And our hearts had grown so warm,
It seemed like the pelting of summer flowers
And not the crash of storm
“”Twas a time of the dearest privilege
Of the Lord̓s right hand,” we said,
As we thought how Jesus Himself had come
To feed us with living bread.