Lord, when the sense of Thy sweet grace

Sends up my soul to seek Thy face,

Thy blesséd eyes breed such desire,

I die in Love's delicious fire.

O Love, I am thy sacrifice;

Be still triumphant, blesséd eyes;

Still shine on me, fair suns! that I

Still may behold, though still I die.

Though still I die, I live again,

Still longing so to be still slain;

So gainful is such loss of breath,

I die e'en in desire of death.

Still live in me this longing strife

Of living death and dying life;

For while Thou sweetly slayest me,

Dead to myself, I live in Thee.