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 scann'd,   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 judgement I heard: But I have not often smiled   Since then, nor question'd since, Nor cared for cornflowers 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 judgement stand—   Yea, judge me now.

This contemn'd of a man,   This marr'd 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.