I yield me to Thy presence, Lord,
I yield me to Thy power.
I yield me to Thy sweet embrace,
The grace of Thy pure fire.
My mother's wail on the wind I hear—
Her laugh, then shrill and bitter with fear,
Is bitterer now, bitter with tear.
I yield me to Thine allness, Lord,
Yield me to Thine I am.
I yield me to Thy tender rod,
O God, I am Thy lamb.
