The Incense of Our Prayers

I take my thurible in hand
     And send to You my prayers;
 Like incense blown by Spirit’s fan   
My faith tells me You’ll hear.

Then sweetest smell comes to the earth–
     Descends when You reply;
Hear I faint sounds of angels’ mirth
     When You to me draw nigh.

Your happiness and joy come down
     And enter in my heart
To cast from me my lingering frown–
     In heaven has no part.

For when I pray I too ascend
     In incense breathed by You,
And broken heart in me You mend:
     You create me anew.