“If a man would give all the substance of his house for love, it would utterly be contemned.”—Song of Solomon 8:7.
Gem of the deep, within its rugged shell,
Spotless and pure, and exquisitely white,
Lurks the rich pearl:—Thus love, Ο Lord, will dwell—
Love to thy name! where our defective sight
No beauty finds, while thou through all canst see,
And prize the jewel that belongs to thee.
Lord! thou art Love—and shall we dare contemn
The feeblest soul where thou art pleased to dwell?
Where love divine, that pure and perfect gem,
Dim and unpolish’d now, shall far excel
You orient the sun, when sorrow’s night is past,
In its full luster unobscured at last.
What brought the Son, Ο blessed Father! down,
To dwell, to suffer, die at last on earth,
But love divine? In thine eternal crown,
What gem of nameless all-excelling worth,
Most brightly shines—irradiates all above,
With its pure beams? What jewel, Lord! but Love?