The Fool's Prayer
THE royal feast was done; the king
Sought some new sport to banish care,
And to his jester cried, “ Sir Fool,
Kneel now, and make for us a prayer! ”
Sought some new sport to banish care,
And to his jester cried, “ Sir Fool,
Kneel now, and make for us a prayer! ”
The jester doffed his cap and bells,
And stood the mocking court before:
They could not see the bitter smile
Behind the painted grin he wore.
And stood the mocking court before:
They could not see the bitter smile
Behind the painted grin he wore.
He bowed his head, and bent his knee
Upon the monarch’s silken stool;
His pleading voice arose: “ O Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!
Upon the monarch’s silken stool;
His pleading voice arose: “ O Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!
“ No pity, Lord, could change the heart
From red with wrong to white as wool;
The rod must heal the sin; but, Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!
From red with wrong to white as wool;
The rod must heal the sin; but, Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!
“ ’T is not by guilt the onward sweep
Of truth and right, O Lord, we stay;
'T is by our follies that so long
We hold the earth from heaven away.
Of truth and right, O Lord, we stay;
'T is by our follies that so long
We hold the earth from heaven away.
“ These clumsy feet, still in the mire,
Go crushing blossoms without end;
These hard, well-meaning hands wo thrust
Among the heart-strings of a friend.
Go crushing blossoms without end;
These hard, well-meaning hands wo thrust
Among the heart-strings of a friend.
“ The ill-timed truth we might have kept, —
Who knows how sharp it pierced and stung?
The word we had not sense to say, —
Who knows how grandly it had rung?
Who knows how sharp it pierced and stung?
The word we had not sense to say, —
Who knows how grandly it had rung?
“ Our faults no tenderness should ask,
The chastening stripes must cleanse them all;
But for our blunders, — oh, in shame
Before the eyes of Heaven we fall.
The chastening stripes must cleanse them all;
But for our blunders, — oh, in shame
Before the eyes of Heaven we fall.
“ Earth bears no balsam for mistakes;
Men crown the knave, and scourge the tool
That did his will; but thou, O Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool! ”
Men crown the knave, and scourge the tool
That did his will; but thou, O Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool! ”
The room was hushed; in silence rose
The king, and sought his gardens cool,
And walked apart, and murmured low,
“ Be merciful to me, a fool! ”
The king, and sought his gardens cool,
And walked apart, and murmured low,
“ Be merciful to me, a fool! ”