Poems (Coolidge)/Self-Denials
SELF-DENIALS
They seem sometimes to be so small, Those things we long to do; As though the giving-up were vain; Yet thus are lives made true.
They seem—ah, yes! to earthly sight, Yet to the Father's eye, No sacrifice the soul can make, But helps to sanctify.
The little touch the potter's hand The yielding clay doth give,Shall shape the lines of beauty. till An image fair shall live.
So now, dear Lord, I yield to thee My stubborn, erring will;Thine image in my heart with love Shall all my spirit fill.