Once I thought to sit so high
in the palace of the sky;
now, I thank God for His grace,
if I may fill the lowest place.
Once I thought to scale so soon
heights above the changing moon;
now, I thank God for delay
to-day, it yet is called to-day.
While I stumble, halt and blind,
lo! He waiteth to be kind;
bless me soon, or bless me slow,
except He bless, I let not go.
Once for earth I laid my plan,
once I leaned on strength of man,
when my hope was swept aside,
I stayed my broken heart on pride:
broken reed hath pierced my hand;
fell my house I built on sand;
roofless, wounded, maimed by sin,
fightings without and fears within:
Yet, a tree, He feeds my root;
yet, a branch, He prunes for fruit;
Yet, a tree, He feeds my root;
yet, a branch, He prunes for fruit;
yet, a sheep, these eves and morns,
He seeks for me among the thorns.
With Thine image stamped of old,
find Thy coin more choice than gold;
known to Thee by name, recall
to Thee Thy home-sick prodigal.
Sacrifice and offering
none there is that I can bring,
none, save what is Thine alone:
I bring Thee, Lord, but of Thine own-
broken body, blood outpoured,
these I bring, my God, my Lord;
wine of life, and living bread,
with these for me Thy board is spread.
Christina Rossetti. (England, 1830-1894)
saludtropical 