Question

Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure.
This frail vessel thou emptiest again and again, and
fillest it ever with fresh life.
This little flute of a reed thou carried over
hills and dale, and hast breathed through it
melodies eternally new.
At the immortal touch of thy hands my litle beant
loses its limits in joy and gives birth to utterance
ineffable.
Thy infinite gifts come to me only on these very
small hands of mine. Ages pass, and still thou
pourest, and still there is room to fill.​

Answer 1

Answer:

please write properly