ASK WHAT THOU WILT
| Thy blood was
spilt From death to set us free; Ask what Thou wilt, 'Tis consecrate to Thee! Thy hands and feet For us the nails went through. What is most meet, Bid ours for Thee to do. Ask what Thou wilt. All round Thy Brows The Throne of Heavenly thought, Divine Wisdom's house— For us the thorns were wrought; Therefore, though dust In balance with Thy pains, Take Thou, in trust, The travail of our brains! Ask what Thou wilt. Thy Heart of Love With all its human aches, By the spear's proof, Was broken for our sakes; Our hearts, therefore, And all we love and own Are ours no more, But Thine and Thine alone. Ask what Thou wilt. Though homes be riven, At Thy supreme behest, Yea! the sword driven Through many a mother's breast; Thy blood was spilt [177] From death to set us free; Ask what Thou wilt 'Tis consecrate to Thee. Ask what Thou wilt. |