The Prayers

I was in Heaven one day when all the prayers
Came in, and angels bore them up the stairs
Unto a place where he
Who was ordained such ministry
Should sort them so that in that palace bright
The presence-chamber might be duly dight;
For they were like to flowers of various bloom;
And a divinest fragrance filled the room.

Then did I see how the great sorter chose
One flower that seemed to me a hedgeling rose,
And from the tangled press
Of that irregular loveliness
Set it apart — and — " This," I heard him say,
" Is for the Master": so upon his way
He would have passed; then I to him: —
"Whence is this rose? O thou of cherubim
The chiefest? " — " Know'st thou not? " he said and smiled,
" This is the first prayer of a little child."