Weary and weak,--accept my weariness;

  Weary and weak and downcast in my soul,

With hope growing less and less,

  And with the goal

Distant and dim,--accept my sore distress.

I thought to reach the goal so long ago,

  At outset of the race I dreamed of rest,

Not knowing what now I know

  Of breathless haste,

  Of long-drawn straining effort across the waste.

One only thing I knew, Thy love of me;

  One only thing I know, Thy sacred same

Love of me full and free,

  A craving flame

Of selfless love of me which burns in Thee.

How can I think of thee, and yet grow chill;

  Of Thee, and yet grow cold and nigh to death?

Re-energize my will,

  Rebuild my faith;

  I will arise and run, Thou giving me breath.

I will arise, repenting and in pain;

  I will arise, and smite upon my breast

And turn to Thee again;

  Thou choosest best,

Lead me along the road Thou makest plain.

Lead me a little way, and carry me

  A little way, and listen to my sighs,

And store my tears with Thee,

  And deign replies

  To feeble prayers;--O Lord, I will arise.

Christina Rossetti