Classic Poem

Psyche yields her heart to the Jesus Child.
From the German of the Angel of Silesia.
My little Jesus Child, I come
With childlike step to Thee;
My heart in Thine would leave its sum
Of pain, and so be free.
Child, my heart is at Thy feet;
Make it sweet,
Like Thy little heart to beat.

Withered it is, and strength hath none,
All shrivelled with the frost;
The divine sap Thou giv'st alone
Can bid it not be lost
Take, O Jesus Child, my heart;
Give it part
In the must of Thy sweet heart.

And ever it doth sigh and groan
Lest haply Thou should'st lose it;
Thou, who hast made of it Thine own,
From all the world did'st choose it.
Take my heart, o Child, Thou pure;
Make it sure
In Thy little heart, Thou pure.

It longs, it longs most inwardly,
To live in Thee again,
And to Thy heart eternally
A staunch heart to remain.
Take it, Jesus Child, to Thee;
Let it be
Always, little Heart, with Thee.