The Soul that Loveth Speaketh to her Lord — Seven Things known to the Longing of Love.

If the world were mine and all its store,
And were it of crystal gold;
Could I reign on its throne for evermore,
From the ancient days of old,
An empress noble and fair as day,
O gladly might it be,
That I might cast it all away,
Christ, only Christ for me.
For Christ my Lord my spirit longs,
For Christ, my Saviour dear;
The joy and sweetness of my songs,
The whilst I wander here.
O Lord, my spirit fain would flee
From the lonely wilderness to Thee.
I bring unto Thy grace a sevenfold praise,
Thy wondrous love I bless--
I praise, remembering my sinful days,
My worthlessness.
I praise that I am waiting, Lord, for Thee,
When, all my wanderings past,
Thyself wilt bear me, and wilt welcome me
To home at last.
I praise Thee that for Thee I long and pine,
For Thee I ever yearn;
I praise Thee that such fitful love as mine
Thou dost not spurn;
I praise Thee for the hour when first I saw
The glory of Thy Face,
Here dimly, but in fulness evermore,
In that high place;
I praise Thee for a mystery unnamed,
Unuttered here below,
Unspeakable in words the lips have framed,
Yet passing sweet to know.
It is the still, the everlasting tide,
The stream of Love Divine,
That from the heart of God for evermore
Flows into mine.
To that deep joy that bindeth heart to heart
In one eternal love,
A still small stream that flows unseen below,
An endless sea above,
To that high love, that fathomless delight,
No thought of man may reach;
And yet behind it is a sevenfold bliss,
Most holy of God's holy mysteries,
Untold in speech.
Faith only hath beheld that secret place,
Faith only knows how great, how high, how fair
The Temple where the Lord unveils His Face
To His belovèd there.
O how unfading is the pure delight,
How full the joy of that exhaustless tide
Which flows for ever in its glorious might,
So still, so wide;
And deep we drink with sweet, eternal thirst,
With lips for ever eager as at first,
Yet ever satisfied.