By May Hastings Nottage
Written in 1901, this work of poetry celebrates the cherished memories of a grown woman tenderly recalling from childhood the voice of her father in prayer.
In the silence that falls on my spirit
When the clamor of life loudest seems,
Comes a voice that floats in tremulous notes
Far over my sea of dreams.
I remember the dim old vestry,
And my father kneeling there;
And the old hymns thrill with the memory still
Of my father’s voice in prayer.
I can see the glance of approval
As my part in the hymn I took;
I remember the grace of my mother’s face
And the tenderness of her look;
And I knew that a gracious memory
Cast its light on that face so fair,
As her cheek flushed faint—O mother, my saint!—
At my father’s voice in prayer.
‘Neath the stress of that marvelous pleading
All childish dissensions died;
Each rebellious will sank conquered and still
In a passion of love and pride.
Ah, the years have held dear voices,
And melodies tender and rare;
But tenderest seems the voice of my dreams—
My father’s voice in prayer.
When I read this, I could relate to it, and it made me weep for the dad I had who prayed often in my presence and sang hymns with our family. But I think my wife and I are a minority in this experience. And if you read this and sense a hurt or a wish that you had a dad like this. Then my challenge to you dear church is do what my dad did and change the course of your family and be the dad that your children will weep over when thinking of your devotion to the Lord. Happy Father’s Day! Pastor Mark