Every Man for His Own Hand
I MAY not call what many call divine,
And yet my faith is faith in its degree;
I worship at a dim and lonely shrine
— — On bended knee.
The secret grace of faith's celestial part
I hoard up safely for mine own self's own;
Within the hidden chambers of the heart
— — I love alone.
And yet my faith is faith in its degree;
I worship at a dim and lonely shrine
— — On bended knee.
The secret grace of faith's celestial part
I hoard up safely for mine own self's own;
Within the hidden chambers of the heart
— — I love alone.
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