You are my light, though all my soul be dim
Through all the questions of my heart, a friend.
You speak, though words I do not hear;
And listen, though seeming from afar.
You comfort, though I sense no touch,
And in each cross, the kindness of the just.
And though I be a worm and not a man
Under the purging of Thy winnowing fan,
I will but look to Thee, to doubt no more;
May I not be but chaff upon the floor.
Make all my gold pure, may you now refine
To be yours all I thought was mine;
My will be lost in love no storm can part;
Make even me an answer to your heart.