| I bow my forehead to the dust,I veil mine eyes for shame,
 And urge, in trembling self distrust,
 A prayer without a claim.
 No offering of mine own I have,
 Nor works my faith to prove;
 I can but give the gifts He gave,
 And plead His love for love.
 I dimly guess, from blessings known,Of greater out of sight;
 And, with the chastened psalmist, own
 His judgments too are right.
 And if my heart and flesh are weak
 To bear an untried pain,
 The bruiséd reed He will not break,
 But strengthen and sustain.
 I know not what the future hathOf marvel or surprise,
 Assured alone that life and death
 His mercy underlies.
 And so beside the silent sea
 I wait the muffled oar;
 No harm from Him can come to me
 On ocean or on shore.
 I know not where His islands liftTheir fronded palms in air;
 I only know I cannot drift
 Beyond His love and care;
 And Thou, O Lord, by Whom are seen
 Thy creatures as they be,
 Forgive me if too close I lean
 My human heart on Thee.
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