BLIND me with seeing tears until I see!

Let not fair poesy, science, art, sweet tones 

Build up about my soothed sense a world 

That is not Thine, and wall me up in dreams;

So my sad heart may cease to beat with Thine, 

The great World-Heart, whose blood for ever shed 

Is human life, whose ache is man’s dumb pain.

As year by year the thrills of spring-tide shoot,

Through earth’s dull veins with fresh magnetic might, 

Nor fail, for frosts that nip and winds that blight, 

To draw from bud to bloom, from bloom to fruit;

So, Lord, who erst didst stir with quickening power 

My answering soul, achieve what Thou hast aimed;

Draw, for Thou hast drawn;  hold, what Thou hast claimed;

Draw through all failure to the perfect flower;

Draw through all darkness to the perfect light.

Yea let, the rapture of Thy spring-tide thrill 

Through me, beyond me, till its ardour fill 

The ungrowing souls that know not Thee aright.

That Thy great love may make of me, even me, 

One added link to bind the world to Thee.