The offerings to Thy throne which rise,
Of mingled praise and prayer,
Are but a worthless sacrifice,
Unless the heart be there.
Upon Thine all-discerning ear
Let no vain words intrude;
No tribute but the vow sincere,—
The tribute of the good.
Our offerings will indeed be blest,
If sanctified by Thee;
If Thy pure spirit touch the breast
With its own purity.
O, may that spirit warm each heart
To piety and love,
And to life’s lowly vale impart
Some rays from heaven above.
|First Line:||The offerings to Thy throne which rise|
|Title:||The Heart’s Worship|