This beautiful poem was sent by a student of Christian Science to the Rev. Mary Baker G. Eddy, who was so touched by it that she sent it to us with the request that it be published in our Journal. Its authorship is not known to us, but we feel sure that the beautiful spirit which gave it birth will be glad to have it do as much good as may be, and therefore will freely approve our publishing it.
Laid on thy altar, 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 hand
This will of mine—a thing that seemeth small—
And only thou, dear Lord, canst understand
How, when I yield Thee this, I yield my all.
Hidden therein Thy searching eye can see
Struggles of passion, visions of delight,—
All that I love, or am, or fain would be,
Deep loves, fond hopes, and longing infinite.
It has been wet with tears and dimmed with sighs,
Clinched in my grasp till beauty it had none,
Now from thy footstool, where it vanquished lies,
The prayer ascendeth, May Thy will be done.
Take it, O Father, e'er my courage fail,
And merge it so in Thine own will 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 peace divine,
I may not know or feel it as my own,
But gaining back my will, may find it Thine.
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