This year I have been reading various prayers and meditations from on old W.B. Phillips pocket manual of prayer. Published in 1914, it's words no doubt brought comfort and strength to those in the last pandemic; and they have done the same for me in this one. The following prayer seems especially appropriate for a pastor to share on the last day of the year a century later:
"Dear Father: The days of the dying year hold a sacredness for thy children. Thereby are they to realize that life's day of "threescore and ten" hath but seventy warning-posts, and then each must "go the way of all the earth." Gray hair and furrowed brow mutely testify, but the passing of the year seems to be a more tragic enactment. May thy servant learn well life's lesson. May he look with more awe upon the grandeur of thy "handiwork." May I also see more beauty in thy creation, the mortals who have souls, latent talents that might glorify thee if purposeful ideals were put before them. Human spirits that might be "clothed upon" with the Divine Spirit, which is immortal and infinite.
God, open my eyes, that I may see in its fullness the divine expression of my Savior's love in the "living souls" about me. Open my eyes, not to mental vision alone, but to a true vision of the real -- real life that exists about me. May I fulfill my pastoral office with true desire for thy mercy's sake, and not be spurred by any purpose or motive that is narrow, pecuniary, or of self-glory. Only thee would I serve -- thee alone. Help me, my God, to save dying men and women. For Jesus' name's sake. Amen."
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