Oh, Infant King, no gold or myrrh
Have I to offer Thee,
For never was a creature poor
As could compare with me.
I vainly loved and poorly prayed.mw-parser-output .nowrap,.mw-parser-output .nowrap a:before,.mw-parser-output .nowrap .selflink:before{white-space:nowrap}. . . .
But Lord, ere You depart,
Accept the wounds man’s law has made
Upon my troubled heart.