There was a little man, and he had a little soul; And he said, Little Soul, let us try, try, try! - Thomas Moore

I give thee all,—I can no more,
Though poor the off'ring be;
My heart and lute are all the store
That I can bring to thee.

As down in the sunless retreats of the ocean
Sweet flowers are springing no mortal can see,
So deep in my soul the still prayer of devotion,
Unheard by the world, rises silent to Thee. As still to the star of its worship, though clouded,
The needle points faithfully o'er the dim sea,
So dark when I roam in this wintry world shrouded,
The hope of my spirit turns trembling to Thee.

Love on through all ills, and love on till they die.