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Matins

From the same.

I cannot open, Lord, mine eyes,

But Thou art ready still to claim

My morning soul in sacrifice:

Thine then the following day I am.

My God, what is a human heart?

Silver, or gold, or precious stone,

Or star, or rainbow; or a part

Of all, or all Thy world in one?

My God, what is a human heart?

Thou softenest it with heavenly dew,

Thou pour’st upon it all Thy art,

As all Thy business were to woo.

To serve his God is man’s estate;

This glorious task asks all his care:

He did not earth and heaven create,

But may know Him by whom they are.

Teach me at last Thy love to know;

That this new light which now I see

May both the work and Workman show:

A sunbeam lifts me then to Thee!


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