I am thine own, O Christ--
Henceforth entirely thine;
And life from this glad hour,
New life, is mine!
No earthly joy shall lure
My quiet soul from thee;
This deep delight, so pure,
Is heaven to me.
My little song of praise
In sweet content I sing;
To thee the note I raise,
My King, my King!
I cannot tell the art
By which such bliss is given;
I know thou hast my heart,
And I--have heaven!
O peace! O holy rest!
O balmy breath of love!
O heart divinest, best,
Thy depth I prove.
I ask this gift of thee--
A life all lily fair,
And fragrant as the gardens be
Where seraphs are.
--Helen Bradley.