Page:Poems Rossetti.djvu/152

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.