Something of the naught in me.
Ah! I saw Thy patient love
Watching o’er me year on year;
Guarding, guiding, move for move—
Always faithful, always near:
Saw Thy pardon’s ceaseless flow
Evermore my soul bedew;
Washing scarlet white as snow,[[169]]
Sere and blight to morning-new:
Saw this self—how weak, how base!—