Poetry Archives

I have no wit, no words, no tears;
      My heart within me like a stone
Is numb’d too much for hopes or fears;
      Look right, look left, I dwell alone;
I lift mine eyes, but dimm’d with grief
      No everlasting hills I see;
My life is in the falling leaf:
      O Jesus, quicken me.

My life is like a faded leaf,
      My harvest dwindled to a husk:
Truly my life is void and brief
      And tedious in the barren dusk;
My life is like a frozen thing,
      No bud nor greenness can I see:
Yet rise it shall—the sap of Spring;
      O Jesus, rise in me.

My life is like a broken bowl,
      A broken bowl that cannot hold
One drop of water for my soul
      Or cordial in the searching cold;
Cast in the fire the perish’d thing;
      Melt and remould it, till it be
A royal cup for Him, my King:
      O Jesus, drink of me.