Sometimes, from the far-away, Wing a little thought to me； In the night or in the day, It will give a rest to me.

    I have praise of many here, And the world gives me renown¹； Let it go —— give me one tear, 'Twill be a jewel in my crown.

    What care I for earthly fame？ How I shrink from all its glare！ I would rather that my name Would be shrined in some one's prayer.

    Many hearts are all too much, Or too little in their praise； I would rather feel the touch Of one prayer that thrills all days.