I know, whatever God may be,
All Life it was, that lighted me
This little flame,whereby I see.

I know all strength did stirHis hand,
To serve somehow, this poor command
Of what-so-e'er I understand;
I know all strength did stirHis hand.

And from all love,there throbs the stress
Of pity and of wistfulness;
Both to be blesséd and to bless.

There,by the source,that still doth pour,
On star and glowworm,reckoned for,
I will have more and ever more!