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THE OFFERING.
I offer up affections,
Void, violent, and vain;
I offer years of sorrow
Of the mind, and body's pain:
I offer up my memory—
'Tis a drear and darkened page,
Where experience has been bitter,
And whose youth has been like age.
I offer hopes, whose folly
Only after-thoughts can know,
For instead of seeking heaven
They were chained to earth below!
Saying, wrong and grief have brought me
To thy altar as a home;
I am sad and broken-hearted,
And therefore am I come.
Let the incense of my sorrow,
Be on high, a sacrifice;
The worn and contrite spirit
Thou alone wouldst not despise!
