But while they bloomed, they witherèd,
And Lord! Thy Gift my choice shall be.
Then did the World its gayes present,
And still alluring cried, See, See!
Here’s that may rather give content;
But Lord! Thy Gift my choice shall be.
These cannot give, they’d steal away
From me my heaven, my heart from Thee:
Whate’er they offer, I’ll say nay,
Still Lord! Thy Gift my choice shall be.