Manuscript:
Transcription:
What offering have I ,dear 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 end time are thine
Save one un yielded wealth I hold, –
The will that should be thine!
