There is better than that in our hearts, O enter therein,
A light burneth, though wan
And weak be the flame, yet it gloweth, our Humility!
Ah, how can it be
Trimmed o’ the wick,
And replenished with oil to burn brightly and golden and quick?
For deep in our hearts
We wish to be thankful through lean years and fat without change,
Knowing that here Thou hast set for the spirit a range:
We would play well our parts,