I meant to have but modest needs-
Such as Content-and Heaven-
Within my income-these could lie
And Life and I-keep even-

But since the last-included both-
It would suffice my Prayer
But just for One-to stipulate-
And Grace would grant the Pair-

And so-upon this wise-I prayed-
Great Spirit-Give to me
A Heaven not so large as Yours,
But large enough-for me-

A Smile suffused Jehovah's face-
The Cherubim-withdrew-
Grave Saints stole out to look at me-
And showed their dimples-too-

I left the Place, with all my might-
I threw my Prayer away-
The Quiet Ages picked it up-
And Judgment-twinkled-too-
Tat one so honest-be extant-
It take the Tale for true-
That “Whatsoever Ye shall ask-
Itself be given You”-

But I, grown shrewder-scan the Skies
With a suspicious Air-
As Children-swindled for the first
All Swindlers-be-infer-