Laid on Thine altar, O my Lord Divine,
Accept my gift this day, for Jesus' sake;
I have no jewels to adorn Thy shrine,
Nor any world-famed sacrifice to make:
But here I bring within my trembling hands
This will of mine, a thing that seemeth small,
Yet Thou alone, O Lord, canst understand
How when I yield Thee this, I yield Thee all.
Hidden therein, Thy searching gaze can see
Struggles of passion, visions of delight,
All that I have, or fain would be,
Deep loves, fond hopes, and longings infinite:
It hath been wet with tears, and dimmed with sighs,
Clenched in my grasp, till beauty hath it none:
Now from Thy footstool, where it vanquished lies,
The prayer ascendeth, "May Thy will be done."
Take it, O Father, ere my courage fail,
And merge it so with Thine own, that e'en
If in some desperate hour my cries prevail,
And Thou give back my gift, it may have been
So changed, so purified, so fair have grown,
So one with Thee, so filled with love divine,
I may not know or feel it as my own,
But gaining back my will, may find it Thine.
(found among the papers of an African missionary after his death)
