Source of love, my brighter sun, Thou alone my comfort art; See, my race is almost run; Hast thou left this trembling heart? | In my youth thy charming eyes Drew me from the ways of men; Then I drank unmingled joys; Frown of thine saw never then. | Spouse of Christ was then my name; And, devoted all to thee, Strangely jealous I became, Jealous of this self in me. | Thee to love, and none beside, Was my darling, sole employ; While alternately I died, Now of grief, and now of joy. | Through the dark and silent night On thy radiant smiles I dwelt; And to see the dawning light Was the keenest pain I felt. | Thou my gracious teacher wert; And thine eye, so close applied, While it watched thy pupil's heart, Seemed to look at none beside. | Conscious of no evil drift, This, I cried, is love indeed— 'Tis the giver, not the gift, Whence the joys I feel proceed. | But, soon humbled and laid low, Stript of all thou hast conferred, Nothing left but sin and woe, I perceived how I had erred. | Oh, the vain conceit of man, Dreaming of a good his own, Arrogating all he can, Though the Lord is good alone! | He the graces thou hast wrought Makes subservient to his pride; Ignorant that one such thought Passes all his sin beside. | Such his folly—proved, at last By the loss of that repose, Self–complacence cannot taste, Only love divine bestows. | 'Tis by this reproof severe, And by this reproof alone, His defects at last appear, Man is to himself made known. | Learn, all earth! that feeble man, Sprung from this terrestrial clod, Nothing is, and nothing can; Life and power are all in God. | |