Waiting on Him who knows us and our need, 
Most need have we to dare not, nor desire, 
But as He giveth, softly to suspire 
Against His gift, with no inglorious greed, 
For this is joy, tho' still our joys recede; 
And, as in octaves of a noble lyre, 
To move our minds with His, and clearer, higher, 
Sound forth our fate; for this is strength indeed. 

Thanks to His love let earth and man dispense 
In smoke of worship when the heart is stillest, 
A praying more than prayer: "Great good have I, 
Till it be greater good to lay it by; 
Nor can I lose peace, power, permanence, 
For these smile on me from the thing Thou willest!"