I took my heart in my hand
        (O my love, O my love),
I said: Let me fall or stand,
         Let me live or die,
But this once hear me speak
         (O my love, O my love);
Yet a woman's words are weak:
         You should speak, not I.

You took my heart in your hand
         With a friendly smile,
With a critical eye you scanned,
         Then set it down,
And said: It is still unripe,
         Better wait awhile;
Wait while the skylarks pipe,
         Till the corn grows brown.

As you set it down it broke,--
         Broke, but I did not wince;
I smiled at the speech you spoke,
         At your judgment that I heard:
But I have not often smiled
         Since then, nor questioned since,
Nor cared for corn-flowers wild,
         Nor sung with the singing bird.
I take my heart in my hand,
         O my God, O my God,
My broken heart in my hand:
         Thou hast seen, judge Thou.
My hope was written on sand,
         O my God, O my God;
Now let Thy judgment stand,--
         Yea, judge me now.

This contemned of a man,
         This marred one heedless day,
This heart take Thou to scan
         Both within and without:
Refine with fire its gold,
         Purge Thou its dross away,--
Yea, hold it in Thy hold,
         Whence none can pluck it out.

I take my heart in my hand,--
         I shall not die, but live,--
Before Thy face I stand;
         I, for Thou callest such:
All that I have I bring,
         All that I am I give,
Smile Thou and I shall sing,
         But shall not question much.