I have sought Thee daily at dawn and twilight,
     I have stretched my hands to Thee, turned my face,
Now the cry of a heart athirst I will utter,
     Like the beggar who cries at my door for grace.
The infinite heights are too small to contain Thee,
     Yet perchance Thou canst niche in the clefts of me.
Shall my heart not treasure the hope to gain Thee,
     Or my yearning fail till my tongue's last plea?
     Nay, surely Thy name I will worship, while breath in my nostrils be.