(Lyra Eucharistica, 1863.) Once I Thought To Sit So High In The Palace Of The Sky; Now, I Thank God For His Grace, If I May Fill The Lowest Place. Once I Thought To Scale So Soon Heights Above The Changing Moon; Now, I Thank God For Delay - To-Day, It Yet Is Called To-Day. While I Stumble, Halt And Blind, Lo! He Waiteth To Be Kind; Bless Me Soon, Or Bless Me Slow, Except He Bless, I Let Not Go. Once For Earth I Laid My Plan, Once I Leaned On Strength Of Man, When My Hope Was Swept Aside, I Stayed My Broken Heart On Pride: Broken Reed Hath Pierced My Hand; Fell My House I Built On Sand; Roofless, Wounded, Maimed By Sin, Fightings Without And Fears Within: Yet, A Tree, He Feeds My Root; Yet, A Branch, He Prunes For Fruit; Yet, A Sheep, These Eves And Morns, He Seeks For Me Among The Thorns. With Thine Image Stamped Of Old, Find Thy Coin More Choice Than Gold; Known To Thee By Name, Recall To Thee Thy Home-Sick Prodigal. Sacrifice And Offering None There Is That I Can Bring, None, Save What Is Thine Alone: I Bring Thee, Lord, But Of Thine Own - Broken Body, Blood Outpoured, These I Bring, My God, My Lord; Wine Of Life, And Living Bread, With These For Me Thy Board Is Spread.