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At the immortal touch of thy hands my little heart loses its

limits in joy and gives birth to utterance ineffable.

Thy infinite gifts come to me only on these very small hands of

mine. Ages pass, and still thou pourest, and still there is room

to fill.

2.

When thou commandest me to sing it seems that my heart would

break with pride; and I look to thy face, and tears come to my

eyes.

All that is harsh and dissonant in my life melts into one sweet

harmony-and my adoration spreads wings like a glad bird on its

flight across the sea.

I know thou takest pleasure in my singing. I know that only as a

singer I come before thy presence.

I touch by the edge of the far-spreading wing of my song thy feet

which I could never aspire to reach.

Drunk with the joy of singing I forget myself and call thee

friend who art my lord.

3.

I know not how thou singest, my master! I ever listen in silent

amazement.