Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/976

 As you set it down it broke— Broke, but I did not wince; I smiled at the speech you spoke, At your judgement I heard: But I have not often smiled Since then, nor question'd since, Nor cared for cornflowers wild, Nor sung with the singing bird.

I take my heart in my hand, O my God, O my God, My broken heart in my hand: Thou hast seen, judge Thou. My hope was written on sand, O my God, O my God: Now let thy judgement stand— Yea, judge me now.

This contemn'd of a man, This marr'd one heedless day, This heart take thou to scan Both within and without: Refine with fire its gold, Purge Thou its dross away— Yea, hold it in Thy hold, Whence none can pluck it out.

I take my heart in my hand— I shall not die, but live— Before Thy face I stand; I, for Thou callest such: All that I have I bring, All that I am I give, Smile Thou and I shall sing, But shall not question much.