Poems (Dorr)/Not Mine
NOT MINE
It is not mine to run With eager feetAlong life's crowded ways, My Lord to meet.
It is not mine to pour The oil and wine,Or bring the purple robe And linen fine.
It is not mine to break At his dear feetThe alabaster-box Of ointment sweet.
It is not mine to bear His heavy cross,Or suffer, for his sake, All pain and loss.
It is not mine to walk Through valleys dim,Or climb far mountain-heights Alone with him.
He hath no need of me In grand affairs,Where fields are lost, or crowns Won unawares.
Yet, Master, if I may Make one pale flowerBloom brighter, for thy sake, Through one short hour;
If I, in harvest-fields Where strong ones reap,May bind one golden sheaf For Love to keep;
May speak one quiet word When all is still,Helping some fainting heart To bear thy will;
Or sing one high, clear song, On which may soarSome glad soul heavenward, I ask no more!