And we, O Father, standing Thee before,
Do lay down at Thy feet, without a sigh,
Each after each, our precious things and rare,
Our dear heart-jewels and our garlands fair;
For well Thou knewest that the flowers would
die,
And the long-voyaged hoards be found but
dust,
So took'st them.
Thee we trust for incorruptible treasure,
Thou art just.
Selected.
