Still, still, without ceasing,
I feel it increasing,
This fervor of holy desire;
And often exclaim,
Let me die in the flame
Of a love that can never expire!

Had I words to explain,
What she must sustain,
Who dies to the world and its ways;
How joy and affright,
Distress and delight,
Alternately checker her days;

Thou, sweetly severe!
I would make thee appear,
In all thou art pleas’d to award,
Not more in the sweet,
Than the bitter I meet,
My tender and merciful Lord.

This Faith, in the dark
Pursuing its mark,
Through many sharp trials of Love,
Is the sorrowful waste,
That is to be pass’d,
In the way to the Canaan above.