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.

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