God of all the world,
We pray for people who
sell,
Door to door, on the telephone, in markets.
For all their pressure
and patter,
It can be a hard and lonely life,
When no-one will bite,
When
you spill yourself on the empty air,
You make your spiel for the hundredth
time
And nobody hears.
Let them know that you are close,
And
answering a deeper need.
IMSY