Day by day thou art making me worthy of thy full acceptance by
refusing me ever and anon, saving me from perils of weak,
uncertain desire.
I am here to sing thee songs. In this hall of thine I have a
corner seat.
In thy world I have no work to do; my useless life can only break
out in tunes without a purpose.
When the hour strikes for thy silent worship at the dark temple
of midnight, command me, my master, to stand before thee to sing.
When in the morning air the golden harp is tuned, honour me,
commanding my presence.
I have had my invitation to this world's festival, and thus my
life has been blessed. My eyes have seen and my ears have heard.
It was my part at this feast to play upon my instrument, and I
have done all I could.
Now, I ask, has the time come at last when I may go in and see
thy face and offer thee my silent salutation?
I am only waiting for love to give myself up at last into his
hands. That is why it is so late and why I have been guilty of
such omissions.
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