Ah, when I look up at the cross
Where God's Steward suffered loss
Of life, and shed His blood for me,
Oh, trifling thing it seems to be
To pay a tithe, dear Lord, to Thee,
Of time, or talent, wealth, or store,
Full well I know I owe Thee more;
A million times I owe Thee more!

But that is just the reason why
I lift my heart to God on high
And pledge Thee, by this portion small,
My life, my love, my all in all.
This holy token at Thy cross
I know as gold, must seem but dross,
But in my heart, Lord, Thou dost see
How it was pledged in love to Three;
That I a steward true may be.