University of Virginia Library


44

AT THY FEET.

Lord, I would offer Thee
A heart's untarnished gold,
And yet how can it be
When all there is in me
Is touched with blight and mould?
I find within no thought
So holy that it may
Unshamed to Thee be brought,
Except as it hath caught
From Thee a hallowing ray.
Yet all I am is Thine.
Through sins and flaws and stains
I feel Thy Presence shine.
Take me, and make divine
All that uncleansed remains!
Lord, of Thyself not much
In me canst Thou behold,
And yet Thou savest such;
The magic of Thy touch
Transmutes my dross to gold.
Contrition Thou dost prize
All sacrifice above.
Dear Lord, I dare arise
And look into Thine eyes,
Because I know Thy love.