At Prayer Meeting....by Margaret E. Sangster

                                        
There were only two or three of us, who came to the place of prayer;
Came in the teeth of a driving storm; but for that we did not care,
Since after our hymns of praise had risen, And our earnest prayers were said,
The Master Himself was present there, and gave us the living bread.

We knew His look in our leader's face, so rapt and glad and free;
We felt His touch when our heads we bowed, We heard His "Come to Me!"
Nobody saw Him lift the latch, and none unbarred the door;
But peace was His token to every heart, and how could we ask for more?

It was only a handful gathered in, to the little place of prayer,
Outside was struggle and pain and sin, but the Lord Himself was there;
He came to redeem the pledge He gave, wherever His loved ones be,
To stand Himself in the midst of them, though they count but two or three.

And forth we fared in the bitter rain, and our hearts had grown so warm,
It seemed like the pelting of summer flowers, and not the crash of a storm;
"Twas a time of the dearest privilege, at the Lord's right hand," we said,
And we thought how Jesus Himself had come, to feed us the Living Bread. 
                                                                       
                                                                Margaret E. Sangster