Twice
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 handWith a friendly smile, 10With a critical eye you scanned,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 that I heard: 20But I have not often smiledSince 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: 30Now let thy judgement stand—Yea, judge me now.
This contemned of a man,This marred one heedless day,This heart take Thou to scanBoth 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. 40
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.