  GOD give thee, love, thy heart’s desire! What better can I pray? For though love falter not, nor tire, And stand on guard all day, How little can it know or do, How little can it say! How hard it strives, and how in vain, By hope and fear misled, To make the pathway soft and plain For the dear feet to tread, To shield from sun-beat and from rain The one beloved head! Its wisdom is made foolishness; Its best intent goes wrong; It curses where it fain would bless, Is weak instead of strong,— Marring with sad, discordant sighs The joyance of its song. I do not dare to bless or ban,— I am too blind to see,— But this one little prayer I can Put up to God for thee, Because I know what fair, pure things Thy inmost wishes be; Is what he loves to grant,— The love that counteth not its cost If any crave or want; The presence of the Holy Ghost, The soul’s inhabitant; The wider vision of the mind; The spirit bright with sun; The temper like a fragrant wind, Chilling and grieving none; The quickened heart to know God’s will And on his errands run; The ministry of little things,— Not counted mean or small By that dear alchemy which brings Some grain of gold from all; The faith to wait as well as work, Whatever may befall. So, sure of thee, and unafraid, I make my daily prayer, Nor fear that my blind zeal be made Thy injury or snare: God give thee, love, thy heart’s desire, And bless thee everywhere! |
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