Page:The Easter Gift.pdf/8

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Thy love should fill our hearts, like dew That fills the flowers by night; Who, in that gentle rain renew The waste of morning's light.

Thus doth life's hurry and its glare Dry up within our heart The holier thoughts that are thy share, The spirit's better part.

And yet we turn not to thy love, We seek not to recall The hopes that lift our souls above Their low and earthly thrall.

On pleasures or on wealth intent, Careless we hurry on, And vainly precious hours are spent Before we think them gone.

Their joy and sorrow, sin and strife, Close round us like a bond, Which so enslaves to present life, We never look beyond.

O Lord, if every thought were thine, How little would they be Acceptable before thy shrine, Unworthy heaven and thee.