Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure.
This frail vessel thou emptiest again and again,
and finest it ever with fresh life.
This little flute of a reed thou hast carried
over hills and dales,
and hast breathed through it melodies eternally
new.
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
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