Give me thy Heart — Mary Caroline Denver

In youth's glad morn, when the young heart is fullOf love for all the world—when earth is brightWith many flowers, and heaven is beautifulWith the magnificent glories of the night;When all things wear for thee a look of love,And thou hast faith and confidence in all,—Hear'st thou not then, as from the world aboveUnto thy heart a strange, mysterious call,A voice within thy soul which speaketh ever,Whose tones are silent in thy bosom never?—"Give me thy heart."

Give in thy early spring-time I ere the rustOf earth hath soiled thy young soul's purity,And laid its brightest blossom in the dust,The glorious hope of immortality;Give! and thy strength shall fail not, and thy soulShall shrink not from the storms that hover o'er;Shall stem the breakers that around thee roll,And land in safety on the promised shore;Where thou may's t worship at His feet forever,Whose voice is whispering in thy bosom ever,"Give me thy heart!"