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They speak of love, yet little feel its sway,
While in their bosoms many an idol lurks; Their base desires, well satisfied, obey,
Leave the Creator's hand, and lean upon his works.
'Tis therefore I can dwell with man no more;
My God, who form'd you for his praise alone,
Yes, I will always love; and, as I ought,
Tune to the praise of Love my ceaseless voice; Preferring Love too vast for human thought,
In spite of erring men, who cavil at my choice.
Why have I not a thousand thousand hearts,
How should it ever fail! can such a fire decline?
pure and holy, is a deathless fire;
Its object heavenly, it must ever blaze: Eternal love a God must needs inspire,
When once he wins the heart, and fits it for his praise.
Self-love dismiss'd,-'tis then we live indeed,—
In her embrace, death, only death is found: Come, then, one noble effort, and succeed,
Cast off the chain of self with which thy soul is bound!
Oh! I could cry, that all the world might hear,
Dear to your inmost souls, and make him all your own!
They hear me not.-Alas! how fond to rove
I taste the sweets of truth,-here only am secure.
I AM fond of the swallow ;-I learn from her flight,
How seldom on earth do we see her alight!
It is on the wing that she takes her repose,
She comes in the spring, all the summer she stays,
And the place where he shines not, immediately shun.
Our light should be Love, and our nourishment prayer;
'Tis rarely, if ever, she settles below,
And only when building a nest for her young; Were it not for her brood, she would never bestow A thought upon any thing filthy as dung.
Let us leave it ourselves ('tis a mortal abode,)
TRIUMPH OF HEAVENLY LOVE DESIRED.
AH! reign, wherever man is found,
My Spouse, beloved and divine!
A thousand sorrows pierce my soul,
All hearts are cold, in every place,
Thaw these of ice, and give us new!
A FIGURATIVE DESCRIPTION
PROCEDURE OF DIVINE LOVE,
IN BRINGING A SOUL TO THE POINT OF SELF-RENUNCIATION AND ABSOLUTE ACQUIESCENCE.
'Twas my purpose on a day,
Love was sporting in the tide;
"Come," he said, "ascend! make haste,
Launch into the boundless waste."
Many mariners were there,
Love, with power divine supplied,
Did I with resentment burn
No:- "My soul," I cried," be still!
Next he hasten'd to convey
Still, however, life was safe;
Soon I saw him, with dismay,
How I trembled then and fear'd,
Ah! return, and love me still;
See me subject to thy will!
Frown with wrath, or smile with grace,
Only let me see thy face!
Evil I have none to fear,
All is good, if Thou art near.