A Song

Lord, when the sense of thy sweet grace    Sends up my soul to seek thy face.  Thy blessed eyes breed such desire,  I dy in love’s delicious Fire.    O love,

I am thy Sacrifice.          Be still triumphant, blessed eyes.  Still shine on me, fair suns! that I  Still may behold, though still I dy.        Though still I dy,

I live again;  Still longing so to be still slain,         So gainfull is such losse of breath.  I dy even in desire of death.    Still live in me this loving strife  Of living Death and dying Life.  For while thou sweetly slayest me         Dead to my selfe,

I live in Thee.