A WREATHED garland of deservéd praise,
Of praise deservéd, unto Thee I give;
I give to Thee, who knowest all my ways,
My crooked winding ways, wherein I live.
Wherein I die, not live; for life is straight,
Straight as a line, and ever tends to Thee, —
To Thee, who art more far above deceit
Than deceit seems above simplicity.
Give me simplicity, that I may live;
So live and like, that I may know Thy ways;
Know them and practise them. Then shall I give
For this poor wreath, give Thee a crown of praise.

-HERBERT.