But all I have is worthless and unfit for offering;

A foolish heart, a foolish dream, a foolish, fruitless pain,—

Such are my all; O Love of Love, do not the gift disdain!

And even as earthly monarchs do, who take the tribute given,

And quick restore, by royal grace increased to seven times seven,

So take, O Lord, my offering, and vouchsafe me presently,

For emptiness thy fulness, for my hunger thy supply.

I lay my heart down at thy feet, that tired heart and old,

Whose youthful throb has grown so faint, whose youthful fire so cold;

Heart of the world’s heart, Lord of joy, and mighty Lord of pain,

My foolish dream, so dear, so prized, baptized in many tears,

Loved even as sickly children are, the more for doubts and fears,

O Lord, whose word is faithfulness eternal to endure,

Take it; and give me, in its stead, the Hope that standeth sure.

The pain, that half was baffled will, which could not bear to die,

And, stilled by day, would stir by night and wake me with its cry,

That pain so close, so intimate, that Death could scarce destroy,

I leave it, Lord, before thy feet; give me instead thy joy.

All empty-handed came I in, full-handed forth I go;

Go thou beside me, Lord of Grace, and keep me ever so.

Thanks are poor things for such wide good, but all my life is thine,—

Thou who hast turned my stones to bread, my water into wine.