13
Yea, into his heart it crept,
He worked with at new-born skill;
And whether He laughed or wept
He worked with a steadfast will.
He worked with at new-born skill;
And whether He laughed or wept
He worked with a steadfast will.
It was given him—he caught
It close to his heaving breast
And a miracle was wrought,
For a genius stood confessed.
The Kilt which he held the least
Was the gift the Lord had sent,
Lo, the angel at the feast
He had misnamed, discontent.
It close to his heaving breast
And a miracle was wrought,
For a genius stood confessed.
The Kilt which he held the least
Was the gift the Lord had sent,
Lo, the angel at the feast
He had misnamed, discontent.
