Manuscript:
Transcription:
have I, dear oh Lord
What Offering can I bring
Thee Lord
To show I am thy child
What service shorn of
selfishness
And not with sin defiled!
– – –
The day is past for turtle doves
For incense burnt in clouds
Or even spikenard costly
rare.
That bro't thy loving words
– – – – – -
Thou art not poor as we of
Earth.
All Space and Time are thine
