Vernon had been asked to give the invocation. And his prayer — much like his talks and testimony — was brief, direct and tender. He thanked the Lord for a good night's rest, thanked Him for the new day that had come, and then asked Him to send some rain to water the crops.

Then he closed and took his seat.

Once, people like Vernon were referred to as "slow." Today, some might call him "learning disabled." But in matters of the heart, Vernon is neither slow nor disabled. He speaks his heart to God like everyone else. Like everyone else, he is a worried child in need.

Last year a little book shot to the top of best-seller lists. The Prayer of Jabez was a book based on the simple petition found in 1 Chronicles 4:10. There, tucked amid verse after verse of Hebrew names, the list-maker pauses and singles out Jabez for having received a special blessing from the Lord. Jabez had asked the Lord to "enlarge my coast" and "keep me from evil." His wishes, the chronicler tells us, were granted.

In his book, the author of The Prayer of Jabez turns over every phrase of the little prayer like a precious stone. He uses scripture to bolster his interpretation and includes personal anecdotes to make his points. By the end of the book, the author has taken a short prayer that rings like a school bell and given it the deep, burnished resonance of a cathedral bell.

Readers must decide for themselves if the little prayer bears up under the weight.

Some prayers — perhaps even the prayer of Jabez — lend themselves to deep study and meditation. "The Lord's Prayer" comes to mind. It beams with so many facets that hundreds of books have been published about it. Hundreds more will be written.

The sacrament prayers over the bread and water also hold hidden depths. They seem to contain truths tucked within truths. With each hearing, such prayers unfold their petals like a flower.

Yet most prayers, it would seem, have more in common with bird songs than symphonies. Like Vernon's prayer, they are unvarnished cries of the heart.

The Book of Mormon is peppered with such prayers.

"O blessed Jesus, who has saved me from an awful hell," cries Lamoni's wife, "O blessed God, have mercy on this people!" (Alma 19:29.)

Alma the elder seems to favor short prayers that resound like peals of thunder. While blessing Helem he pleads, "O Lord, pour out thy Spirit upon thy servant, that he may do this work with holiness of heart." (Mosiah 18:12.)

Alma the younger, not surprisingly, adopts his father's style. One of the best-known Book of Mormon prayers is Alma's wrenching distress call as he agonizes in his sins: "O Jesus, thou Son of God, have mercy on me, who am in the gall of bitterness and am encircled about by the everlasting chains of death." (Alma 36:18.)

And Zenos cries, "O God, for thou hast heard my prayer, even when I was in the wilderness." (Alma 33:4.)

In the hands of a gifted and inspired writer, such prayers may well serve as the core of a book. "The Prayer of Lamoni's Wife" would make a powerful theme. Still, one suspects such prayers are, at heart, much like our own. They are fervent pleas for light, not attempts to dispense enlightenment. More often than not, the earnest prayer will be like Vernon's prayer — a call out into the night from an uneasy child, a voice seeking acknowledgement from a caring parent, a Father who, we pray, will hear us and respond.

The rain that Vernon asked the Lord to send to water the crops arrived that afternoon.