I have this small spare gratitude to give  
Hardly there for all Your care.  
I live in debt, moved to muteness  
By a bursting down of blessing  
That comes upon me like a fragrance  
All at once and sweet.  
Accept my scant oblation  
A motion, to repay the world, my obligation.  
Such light! such luster! in all the dullness  
Of this dim and grieving place!  
Led, I follow, Fathered kind and winning  
In all this shining  
How can I withstand such lovingness  
I grip Your hand. It lifts!
 
©1972 William H. Southwell
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