From thine eyes, bedimmed
To gard thee at awakening.
Thou, too, art of my song of love.
I beseech Thee, Lord, for naught.
These hands are Thine for loving,
And this heart, already Thine,
Why offer it?
I beseech Thee, Lord, for naught.
This one does ask for something, but only to know Him:
Teach me, O God,