Page:Poems (1853).djvu/149

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 Before thy throne I bow;
I tear my worshipped idols from their shrine;
I give to thee, though bruised and aching now,
 This heart,—oh! make it thine.

 I’ve sought to fill in vain
Its lonely, silent depths with human love:
Help me to cast away each earthly chain,
 And rise to thee above.