Love, that art Charity,
Why has Thou hurt me so?
My heart is smote in two,
And burns with ardent love,
Glowing and flaming; refuge finding none,
My heart is fettered fast, it cannot flee;
It is consumed, like wax set in the sun;
Living, yet dying, swooning passionately,
It prays for strength a little way to run,
Yet in this furnace must it bide and be:
Where am I led, ah me!
I once could speak, but now my lips are dumb;
My eyes are blind, although I once could see:
In this abyss my soul is stark and numb,
Silent I speak; cling, yet am held by Thee:
Falling, I rise; I go, and yet I come;
Pursue, and am pursued; I am bound yet free;
O Love that whelmeth me!
Maddened I cry:
"Why must I die,
They fiery strength to prove?"
Love, Love, of naught but Love my tongue can sing,
Thy wounded Hand hath pierced my heart so deep:
Love, Love, with Thee made one, to Thee I cling,
Upon Thy breast, let me sleep;
Love, Love, with Love my heart is perishing;
Love, like an Eagle snatching me Thy sleep,
For Thee I swoon, I weep,
Love, let me be,
By courtesy,
Thine own in death. . .
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Comments
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Very good expression of love for God.
The first 11 lines appear in a book I have, which then goes on for several pages with different words. These "extra" verses are even more powerful, for me.
Here is an example, it is from "The Portable Medieval Reader," The Viking Press, New York, copyright 1949.
"Before I knew its power, I asked in prayer
For love of Christ, believing it was sweet:
I thought to breath a clam and tranquil air,
On peaceful heights, where tempests never beat.
Torment I find, instead of sweetness there!
My heart is riven by the dreadful heat:
Of these strange things to treat
all words are vain:
By bliss I am slain,
And yet I live and move."
This is verse 2, there are 7 more but its past my bedtime!
Thanks for your web site.
Peter Plowright
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