IN a napkin smooth and white,

Hidden from all mortal

My one talent lies tonight.

Mine to hoard, or mine to use,

 Mine to keep, or mine to lose;

May I not do what I choose?

Ah! the gift was only lent,

 With the Giver’s known intent

That it should be wisely spent.

And I know He will demand

Every farthing at my hand,

When I in His presence stand.

What will be my grief and shame

 When I hear my humble name,

 And cannot repay His claim!

Some will double what they hold;

Others add to it tenfold,

And pay back in shining gold.

Lord. O teach me what to do!

I would faithful be and true;

Still the sacred trust renew.

Help me, ere too late it be,

 Something now to do for Thee;

Thou who hast done all for me!

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