Classic Poem

Thee, God, I come from, to Thee go,
All day long I like fountain flow
From Thy hand out, swayed about
Mote-like in Thy mighty glow.

What I know of Thee I bless,
As acknowledging Thy stress;
On my being, and as seeing
Something of Thy holiness.

Once I turned from Thee and hid,
Bound on what Thou hadst forbid;
Sow the wind I would; I sinned:
I repent of what I did.

Bad I am, but yet Thy child.
Father, be Thou reconciled.
Spare Thou me, since I see
With Thy might that Thou art mild.

I have life left with me still
And Thy purpose to fulfil;
Yes, a debt to pay Thee yet:
Help me, Sir, and so I will.