A little kingdom I possess,
Where thoughts and feelings dwell,
And very hard I find the task
Of governing it well;
For passion tempts and troubles me,
A wayward will misleads,
And selfishness its shadow casts,
On all my will and deeds.

How can I learn to rule myself,
To be the child I should,
Honest and brave, nor ever tire
Of trying to be good?
How can I keep a sunny soul
To shine along life’s way?
How can I tune my little heart,
To sweetly sing all day?

Dear Father, help me with the love
That castest out my fear!
Teach me to lean on Thee and feel
That thou art very near.
That no temptation is unseen,
No childish grief too small,
Since Thou, with patience infinite,
Dost soothe and comfort all.

I do not ask for any crown
But that which all may win;
Nor try to conquer any world
Except the one within.
Be Thou my Guide until I find,
Led by a tender hand,
Thy happy kingdom in myself
And dare to take command.

O wondrous world within a world
How beautiful thou art!
What high desire, what holy fire
Lie glowing at thy heart!
What beauty, like the silent stars,
Hangs ever o’er thy brow;
What youth, as old as Paradise,
Springs deathless in thee now!

Where did we learn to love thy face—
The music of thy name?
A leafy door beside the shore
Was opened—and we came.
Our lost ideals, grown more fair,
Thronged back through all thy ways;
Another life—a real life—
Filled all our empty days.

The world smiled, saying, “These are they
Who live among the trees;
Whose thoughts rise higher than the stars
And soar beyond the trees.
They do not weigh their wealth with gold
Or measure it with fame;
They speak a language all their own
They bear a hidden name.”

So weighs the world its own true life,
Nor knows it as its own,
While, Life of Life, above all strife
God waits upon His throne;
He waits until the world of things
And the world of thoughts shall be
Blent in that perfect thing we call
The New Humanity.

What joy is thine, O world within,
To bear thy banners out,
And there to claim in God’s dear Name
The last and least redoubt!
The earth is His—the heav’ns are His,
He stooped to make them one
When that great mystery was wrought
That gave us God the Son.

The world without is blind to thee,
Thou world of the within,
Yet through the years thy saints and seers
Its oracles have been.
Still trust them with thy prophecies;
Still through them breathe thy breath;
Till honor blossoms from the dust
And life spring out of death.