My Gift

BELLE MARGARET WOOD

From secret faults, Lord, cleanse Thou me.
Cause me mine errors all to see,
Turn light of Truth upon my thought.
Let purging fire with power be fraught
To cleanse from every subtle sin,
So that the joy which reigns within,
When Love has triumphed all the way,
May be my gift this Easter Day.

My gift to share with every heart
That, like my own, would gladly part
With envy, jealousy, and pride—
That would not seek its faults to hide,
But ask in meek humility
To give proof of divinity,
Which makes us free to rise and say:
The night is past—'t is Easter Day;

Because the truth has entered in
And proved as naught the claim of sin
To hold in bondage those who yearn
To walk the narrow way, and earn
Their Lord's "Well done" at eventide,
When, earth's ambitions laid aside,
They find the stone is rolled away
And every day is Easter Day.

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