In the rapt moments of his soul’s delight.
The sweetest words of Jesus are not found
In Holy Writ; who in his grace abound,
Forsaking all the world to bear his cross,
Counting all human love and honor dross;
Who wears the thorny crown upon his head,
And loveth better than his daily bread
The scourge, the iron chain, the stony bed,
Worn out with vigils, spent with sighs and tears,
Jesus perchance may whisper in his ears,