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| HAST thou a lamp, a little lamp, | |
| Put in that hand of thine? | |
| And did He say, who gave it thee, | |
| The world hath need this light should be, | |
| Now, therefore, let it shine? | 5 |
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| And dost thou say, with bated breath, | |
| It is a little flame; | |
| I ’ll let the lamps of broader wick | |
| Seek out the lost and cheer the sick, | |
| While I seek wealth and fame? | 10 |
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| But on the shore where thy small house | |
| Stands dark, stands dark, this night, | |
| Full many a wanderer, thither tossed, | |
| Is driven on that rock and lost, | |
| Where thou hast hid thy light. | 15 |
| |
| Though but a candle thou didst have, | |
| Its trimmed and glowing ray | |
| Is infinite. With God, no light | |
| Is great or small, but only bright, | |
| As is his perfect day. | 20 |
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| The world hath sorrow, nothing more, | |
| To give or keep for thee; | |
| Duty is in that hidden flame, | |
| And soaring joy: then rise for shame | |
| That thou so dark shouldst be. | 25 |
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| Rise, trim thy lamp; the feeble past | |
| Behind thee put and spurn. | |
| With God it is not soon or late, | |
| So that thy light, now flaming great, | |
| Doth ever fiercer burn,— | 30 |
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| Fierce with its love, and flaming great | |
| In its humility; | |
| Shunning no soul in sinful need, | |
| Fearing no path where He may lead, | |
| Glowing consumingly. | 35 |
| |
| Thou shalt not want for light enough, | |
| When earthly moons grow dim; | |
| The dawn is but begun for thee, | |
| When thou shalt hand, so tremblingly, | |
| Thy empty lamp to Him. | 40 |
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