For thirteen years, from 1947 to 1957, A. Powell Davies ministered with power in Washington, D.C. at All Souls Church, Unitarian, founded in 1821 by John Quincy Adams, John C. Calhoun, and Charles Bulfinch, architect of the Capitol. Born in 1902 to Welsh parents, Davies was noted not only for his eloquence but for his action. When the Police Association’s Boys’ Club, that rented the church’s gymnasium, refused to include black boys living in the neighborhood, the church worked with the Unitarian Service Committee to form a club at the church which was open to both boys and girls of all races. Also, since the church was open to persons of all races, Powell Davies refused to eat a meal in any restaurant in Washington that would not serve people of color. When he announced his policy from the pulpit, the congregation, with 1157 people present that Sunday, responded immediately. Lists were circulated of restaurants that would serve meals to both white customers and customers of color. The American Friends Service Committee strengthened the boycott by extending it to hotels in the capitol. Combined lists of integrated restaurants and hotels were circulated to tourists. Soon a law was passed making discrimination a criminal offense in the capitol of the United States. The Supreme Court upheld this law when it was challenged. Foreign diplomats who were constantly coming to Washington, along with many other people of color, including those who lived and/or worked in Washington, were now able to dine or find shelter anywhere in the city.

Underlying Powell Davies strong ministry of social responsibility was his other ministry: simple prayers of power. Indeed, some of his short prayers, prayers of a single sentence, are not only easy to recall but probing and uplifting. Consider these:

O God, when the shame of what we are is upon us, touch us with the hope of our becoming.

Eternal Wisdom, show us how much of what we pray for in the world about us is waiting to be found within ourselves.

O God, when we thank You for what is given to us and not to others, let us remember to pray softly, for there will be many who overhear.

Remind us, O God, that all the darkness in the world has never yet put out a light.

Lead us, O God, to see a way where there is no path; give us to hear music when our own songs cease; and when the warm touch of life forsakes us and our courage melts away, may we stumble through the darkness unto You.

When we try to make the little great and reduce the great to littleness, take pity on us, O God, and frustrate us.

O God, from whom we seek shelter for our lies, teach us that the truth we banish leaves us empty of all meaning and that the good we would not love retums to break our hearts.

In my grief I cannot find You, O God, but I will call upon You, for there still remains in me a little strength; and I will wait, looking towards the morrow.

The love I can no longer give to my beloved, help me, O God, to give to those who need it.