LVIII LONGING
With doubling knees, and weary bones,
To Thee my cries,
To Thee my groans,
To Thee my sighs, my tears ascend:
No end?
My throat, my soul is hoarse;
My heart is wither'd like a ground
Which Thou dost curse;
My thoughts turn round,
And make me giddy: LORD, I fall,
Yet call.
Bowels of pity, hear;
LORD of my soul, love of my mind,
Bow down Thine ear;
Let not the wind
Scatter my words, and in the same
Thy name.
Look on my sorrows round;
Mark well my furnace. O, what flames,
What heats abound!
What griefs, what shames!
Consider, LORD; LORD, bow thine ear,
And hear!
LORD JESU, Thou didst bow
Thy dying head upon the tree;
O, be not now
More dead to me.
LORD, hear. Shall He that made the ear
Not hear?
To Thee help appertains:
Hast Thou left all things to their course,
And laid the reins
Upon the horse?
Is all lock'd? hath a sinner's plea
No key?
Thou tarriest, while I die,
And fall to nothing: Thou dost reign,
And rule on high,
While I remain
In bitter grief; yet am I styled
Thy child.
My Love, my Sweetness, hear:
By these Thy feet, at which my heart
Lies all the year,
Pluck out Thy dart,
And heal my troubled breast, which cries,
Which dies.