That is what 1,500 Muslims from the area around the ruins plan to do today, the first anniversary of the terror attacks that engulfed their mosque in an asbestos-filled dust cloud, put a hole in its fragile finances and changed the lives of six million Muslims across the United States.

"We will pray as normal," said Syed Moinuddin, one of the leaders of the little-known mosque, which describes itself in its newsletter as "the mosque most affected by the tragic events of Sept. 11." In truth, it is a much different scene than the cacophony outside, where thousands are pouring in to Manhattan to remember the dead.

Overhead, ceiling fans slowly stir the air. The imam begins the soft, rhythmic chants of afternoon prayers. A man wearing a white sweatshirt -- it says "9/11 -- New York City" -- touches his head to the floor. Someone has tacked up a flyer on the bulletin board, pleading for aid for the people of Iraq -- just $25 for a sheep and $250 for a tonne of rice, the sign says, can feed 100 families for a month.

"Our congregation will add a special prayer on Sept. 11 for the people who perished in the World Trade Center and for their families," added Mr. Moinuddin, who said he was sickened by the death and destruction so close by.

Tomorrow, he said, the mosque will invite others to come and learn about Islam, to understand that New York's 600,000 Muslims have also been devastated by the attacks.

"I am an American, an American first, and we are all peaceable working people in here that love America," said Mr. Moinuddin, who came from Pakistan more than two decades ago. "We think one of our brothers from the mosque died in the attack. Others escaped and they have left the area, because the businesses they worked for have closed. It has not been easy for us."

Although it is the closest piece of Islamic holy ground to the WTC site, few outsiders know about the Masjid, one of the first mosques to open in lower Manhattan. That's partly because it is located on the second floor of a rundown loft, its exterior scrawled with graffiti and its steel door often shut tight. In fact, it is easier to find the building's Cold War fallout shelter, two floors below.

Not everyone is happy to find unexpected visitors dropping by.

Mustafa Said, an accountant who showed up yesterday for his afternoon prayers, glowered with suspicion when he saw a stranger. His face darkened even further when he found out it was a reporter.

"We have no time to talk; we are praying," he barked, suggesting that a departure was in order. The mosque has been handing out flyers asking for a boycott of The New York Post, which it has deemed anti-Muslim and pro-Israeli.

"The media has not been good to Muslims. You have not told the truth about Islam."

But after the grim-faced Mr. Said removed his shoes and moved into the mosque, the ever-smiling Mr. Moinuddin reappeared, offering a glossy book explaining that Islam is not supportive of terrorists.

"If an individual Muslim were to commit an act of terrorism," it reads, "this person would be guilty of violating the laws of Islam."

Not all Americans understand his religion, Mr. Moinuddin lamented. "It has been a difficult time. I have been treated well by my American friends, but other Muslims have been treated poorly. Our womenfolk have had an especially difficult time, because they wear [Islamic] headdress and are easy to be seen as Muslims."

It has been a common complaint over the past year -- the detentions without charge, the unofficial racial profiling at airports, the Afghan-born taxi driver who says he has been strip-searched by police.

But at ground zero's overlooked mosque, most people don't want to be seen dwelling on the new tensions they face in their adopted homeland. Instead, they want other Americans to know that they too have felt hardship since last Sept. 11. The dust cloud that engulfed them forced the mosque to close its doors for weeks. They paid the rent all along, $10,000 (U.S.) a month, never asking for government relief. But now, with many members of their congregation unemployed or moving away, there is a cash shortfall. The Masjid Manhattan may not be open much longer. "We want to stay down here," Mr. Moinuddin said. "It is our home. We hope to find a new building."