Sweet the fragrant smoke of prayer
cried from broken contrite hearts
Vanity washed and scrubbed away
and crushed upon the brutal shores
For all the ways of man are vain
self-hope becomes a loathing cry
and still most hope in their own strength
till stillborn hope does crush their heart
and all their ways of vanity die
but till that time their prayer is stench
upon the nostrils of our saddened God
But a smile and lighted swollen heart
for the sweet and fragrant smoke of prayer
cried from the broken contrite heart
laid prostrate before the God of all!

About Mike

I'm a native of Chicago, but have spent the last 20 years living in the Ozarks with my wife of 25 years. Some of my favorite things to do other than write is to BBQ, smoke meat, and brew craft beers. I also write a blog on Christian Living which you can visit at
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3 Responses to Prayer

  1. Glynn says:

    Prayer comes from brokenness, the understanding that we can’t “fix it.” It’s those fragrant tears, that fragrant smoke, that become our pryaers. Good poem, Mike.

    Ummm, did you mean “prostrate” in the last line?

  2. jasonS says:

    A broken and contrite heart He will not despise. Wonderful. Thanks Mike.

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