A fervour takes an eager birth
In me given to drowse and sloth,
The first instant of waking is Thine
And so the rest following in line.
A routine impels all speech and act
But the heart on Thee is only set.
My divided loyalties have gone now
The whole being my will does tow.
Like a scout on a reconnaissance
I seek the breach of my deliverance.
I have scuttled all the old ways
I nurse no affinity of those days.
In every thing may I confront Thee
With my prayer, ‘O Beloved, am ever Thine’.