The gift that goes on giving

(420)  Hrday uchaliya upaciya pare go

Lord, my surging heart, it overflows;
Far more than I was wanting You did bestow.

Per Your whim, You make things happen;
So kindly mold me as Your instrument—
Far less than I would have it, You accepted.

Of big and small works, little do I fathom;
Whatever You desire, that I'll perform—
Far more than I have spoken, You may discern.

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