I bless thee, O my God!
And if thy spirit on thy child hath shed
The gift, the vision of the unseal’d eye,
To pierce the mist o’er life’s deep meanings spread,
To reach the hidden fountain-urns that lie
Far in man’s heart—if I have kept it free
And pure, a consecration unto thee:
I bless thee, O my God!
If my soul’s utterance hath by thee been fraught
With an awakening power—if thou hast made