Help me, O Lord, this very day, to count
The little blessings all along my way.
In Thy great plan of endless little things,
Beauty and grace hold everlasting sway.
Mayhap, indeed, there is no great or small,
Acknowledged in Thy perfected design;
The tiniest struggling vine obeys Thy call
Of growth as surely as the towering pine.
Should I pass by with dull unseeing eye
The gossamered moth that flutters toward the light,
Or fail to marvel at the darting speed,
The spiraled symmetry of swallows' flight,
Because some looked-for boon has been withheld?
Shall fear, discouragement, becloud my eyes,
Withhold from me the beauty of the stars,
And prophecy of peace that in them lies?
Ah, no; I'll wake to see Thy handiwork
In lowly blossoms at my feet, to feel
Thy loving presence in a friendly smile.
True gratitude and praise will help to heal
The deadening sense of lack, the hopelessness,
The morbid dread of future want and woe.
Oh, Lord of all, I pray for light, to see
The current of Thy little blessings flow.
