“O Lord, too long Thou dost guard and spare
This dungeon-house of clay,
Where I drink the water of sorrow and care,
And the ashes of emptiness are my fare,
From day to day.”
“Where is thy patience, O My Queen?
Let Thy sorrow be sore as it may,
I heal it as if it never had been,
When I speak, it has passed away.
My riches of glory Forever are thine,
Thy might has prevailed over Me,
For I love thee Forever with love divine;
If thou hast the token, the gold is Mine,
And I weigh full measure to thee.
For all things renounced, and for all things wrought,
All sorrow, and all endeavor,
I give thee beyond all desire or thought,
For I give thee Myself Forever.”