At His Feet

AT HIS FEET

I have no gold or jewels,
Nor precious ointment, sweet,
In alabaster box to bring
And break at Jesus’ feet.

Must I then, empty-handed come,
To honor Christ, my King?
No! I have just what He wants,
And so, my self I bring!

I bring to Him my talents,
My lips, my feet, my hands.
I bring to Him a loving heart,
Obeying His commands.

Then if I should ever gain,
For my reward, a crown;
I’ll kneel before those nail-pierced feet
And gladly lay it down!

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