| I COME in the little things, | |
| Saith the Lord: | |
| Not borne on morning wings | |
| Of majesty, but I have set My Feet | |
| Amidst the delicate and bladed wheat | 5 |
| That springs triumphant in the furrowed sod. | |
| There do I dwell, in weakness and in power; | |
| Not broken or divided, saith our God! | |
| In your strait garden plot I come to flower: | |
| About your porch My Vine | 10 |
| Meek, fruitful, doth entwine; | |
| Waits, at the threshold, Love’s appointed hour. | |
| |
| I come in the little things, | |
| Saith the Lord: | |
| Yea! on the glancing wings | 15 |
| Of eager birds, the softly pattering feet | |
| Of furred and gentle beasts, I come to meet | |
| Your hard and wayward heart. In brown bright eyes | |
| That peep from out the brake, I stand confest. | |
| On every nest | 20 |
| Where feathery Patience is content to brood | |
| And leaves her pleasure for the high emprize | |
| Of motherhood— | |
| There doth My Godhead rest. | |
| |
| I come in the little things, | 25 |
| Saith the Lord: | |
| My starry wings | |
| I do forsake, | |
| Love’s highway of humility to take: | |
| Meekly I fit My stature to your need. | 30 |
| In beggar’s part | |
| About your gates I shall not cease to plead— | |
| As man, to speak with man— | |
| Till by such art | |
| I shall achieve My Immemorial Plan, | 35 |
| Pass the low lintel of the human heart. | |