In childhood's pride I said to Thee:
'O Thou, who mad'st me of Thy breath,
Speak, Master, and reveal to me
Thine inmost laws of life and death.

'Give me to drink each joy and pain
Which Thine eternal hand can mete,
For my insatiate soul would drain
Of earth's most bitter cup, or sweet!

'Spare me no bliss, no pang of strife,
Withhold no gift or grief I crave,
The intricate lore of love and life
And subtle knowledge of the grave.'

Lord, Thou didst answer clear and low:
'Child, I will hearken to thy prayer,
And thy unconquered soul shall know
Each poignant rapture and despair.

 ... 

'So shall thy chastened spirit yearn
From its blind prayer to be released,
And spent and pardoned, sue to learn
The simple secrets of My peace.

I, bending from my sevenfold height,
Shall teach thee of My quickening grace,
Life is a prism of My light,
And Death the shadow of My face.'