11
Love on my heart from heaven fell,
Soft as the dew on flowers of spring,
Sweet as the hidden drops that swell
Their honey-throated chalicing.
Now never from him do I part,
Hosanna evermore I cry:
I taste his savour in my heart,
And bid all praise him as do I.
Without him noughtsoever is,
Nor was afore, nor e’er shall be:
Nor any other joy than his
Wish I for mine to comfort me.