A Sabbath Poem (Tagore)

TAKE, O TAKE
~ by Rabindranath Tagore

Time after time I came to Your gate with raised hands,
asking for more and yet more.

You gave and gave, now in slow measure, now in sudden
excess.

I took some, and some things I let drop; some lay
heavy on my hands; some I made into playthings and
broke them when I tired, till the wrecks and the hoard
of Your gifts grew immense, hiding You, and the
ceaseless expectation wore my heart out.

“Take, O take” has now become my cry.

Hold my hands; raise me from the still-gathering heap
of Your gifts into the bare infinity of Your uncrowded
presence.