Page:Poems Dorr.djvu/340

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NOT MINE
It is not mine to run
With eager feet
Along life's crowded ways,
My Lord to meet.

It is not mine to pour
The oil and wine,
Or bring the purple robe
And linen fine.

It is not mine to break
At his dear feet
The alabaster-box
Of ointment sweet.

It is not mine to bear
His heavy cross,
Or suffer, for his sake,
All pain and loss.

It is not mine to walk
Through valleys dim,
Or climb far mountain-heights
Alone with him.

He hath no need of me
In grand affairs,
Where fields are lost, or crowns
Won unawares.