I may have swayed in the wind
and whatever was carried upon
but my flower did always turn her face
to from where,er the sun has shone
I surely have bended my ear
to the voice of ways unknown
ever longing to hear a word
which could move this heart of stone
Such feet as mine are set to stumble
You might have left me fallen there
instead You poured in the oil and wine
dressed my wounds with loving care
Let the men of sage and knowledge
ply You with riddles as they dare
I will wash Your feet with thankful tears
dry them lovingly with my hair.
and whatever was carried upon
but my flower did always turn her face
to from where,er the sun has shone
I surely have bended my ear
to the voice of ways unknown
ever longing to hear a word
which could move this heart of stone
Such feet as mine are set to stumble
You might have left me fallen there
instead You poured in the oil and wine
dressed my wounds with loving care
Let the men of sage and knowledge
ply You with riddles as they dare
I will wash Your feet with thankful tears
dry them lovingly with my hair.