Prayer is that divine seed whose roots draw food from earthly existence. Like the lotus flower that does not bloom in arable ground but in marshes, prayer thrusts its roots into human misery as if into mud. But the lotus flower does not show any trace of the muddy water from which it drew life; turned toward the sky, it blooms.
O Thou, cut down in me this hour and every
hour the swift growing tree of self-regard
which screens me from the needs of others.
Fill me with the realization that for these
few swift years I am put here on earth,
I am lent to be spent in the service of others.