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Eberhard Arnold published most of his essays during his lifetime, but almost none of his poems. It might have been shyness: many are love poems, and others reveal private struggles. But if they open a window on a man's inmost thoughts, they also show him at his most essential and Christ-centered.
A few days after Eberhard's death, his wife Emmy approached a neighbor with a folder of his unpublished poems in hand: "They are not mine anymore...I want to share them." Belated as it might be, this volume is a fruit of her generosity.
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Father, grant to me the spirit
that penetrates my very soul
and drives it, as its surest guide,
in prayer to thee, my only goal.
Grant me the spirit that rejects
self-will, self-confidence, and pride.
Show me my deep guilt, for I
am naught but dead wood – withered, dry.
Grant me the spirit, Lord, that moves me
to kneel before thy holy face,
that points to my redeemer, Christ,
who judges all, but gives all grace.
Grant me the spirit that recoils
from recognition and renown,
that draws my every thought to Christ,
and bows in reverence at his throne.
Grant me the spirit, Lord, of fervor
that wrests the lost from death’s dark night,
that rescues every one from pain
and brings them into thy pure light.
Grant me the spirit that endeavors
to praise thee alone with every breath,
and spreads forevermore thy realm,
and thy Son’s triumph over death.
Halle, 1906