Two short stanzas set up a sharp contrast between daytime and night. During the day, the speaker lives in what they call "a scandal of comfort": an easy, idle existence that is almost too pleasant, as if it ought to embarrass them. The phrase "I make no great matter" suggests they treat this ease lightly, shrugging it off and making no fuss about it, perhaps because they don't want to look too closely.
Then night arrives, and the mood turns. The "discontented prayers" suggest that the comfort hasn't really satisfied the speaker. Once the distractions of the day fall away, a restlessness comes out, and it takes the form of prayer, though not a peaceful or grateful kind.
The poem is very brief, and that spareness adds to its effect. It feels like a quiet confession: a private admission of guilt, or emptiness, hidden behind an easy surface. The tone is uneasy and reflective, leaving us to wonder what the speaker is really asking for.