A widow’s hand in days of old

From Oremus Hymnal

A widow's hand in days of old
gave more than all beside;
her gift more costly far than gold
bestowed with careless pride.
So love that yieldeth all must be
the first free gift we bear to thee.

Thy treasury is open still,
and there our gifts we pour;
the contrite heart, the subject will
are offerings evermore,
which even thine all-searching eyes
may gaze upon and not despise.

Within one broadening stream unite
the alms of rich and poor,
all equal in thy holy sight,
who press thy temple floor:
how vain all earthly pride and place
when God and man are face to face!

The silver and the gold are thine;
thine own we give to thee,
whene'er before thy sacred shrine
we bow the adoring knee;
O merciful High Priest, receive
the lowly gifts thy children give.