I ask not now for gold to gild

Verse 1

I ask not now for gold to gild, With mocking shine, an aching frame; The yearning of the mind is still I ask not now for fame.

Verse 2

But, bowed in lowliness of mind, I make my humble wishes known; I only ask a will resigned, O Father, to thine own.

Verse 3

In vain I task my aching brain, In vain the sage's thoughts I scan; I only feel how weak I am, How poor and blind is man.

Verse 4

And now my spirit sighs for home, And longs for light whereby to see; And, like a weary child, would come, O Father, unto thee.