I hear, e'en I, Thy last and least,
The music from Thy Heavenly Feast;
There, deign receive me as Thy loving guest
And, to my harp, let me but sing,
My King!
. . . . . . .
Unto the Saints I shall be near,
To Mary, and those once treasured here.
Life is all past, and dried is every tear;
To me my home again is given—
In Heaven.
April 28, 1895.
I THIRST FOR LOVE
In wondrous Love, Thou didst come down from Heaven
To immolate Thyself, O Christ, for me;
So, in my turn, my love to Thee is given—
I wish to suffer and to die for Thee.
Thou, Lord, didst speak this truth benign:
"To die for one loved tenderly,
Of greatest love on earth is sign";
And now, such love is mine—
Such love for Thee!
Do Thou abide with me, O Pilgrim blest!
Behind the hill fast sinks the dying day.
Helped by Thy Cross, I mount the rocky crest;
Oh, come, to guide me on my Heavenward Way.
To be like Thee is my desire;
Thy Voice finds echo in my soul.
Suffering I crave! Thy words of fire
Lift me above earth's mire,
And sin's control.
Chanting Thy victories, gloriously sublime,
The Seraphim—all Heaven—cry to me,
That even Thou, to conquer sin and crime,
Upon this earth a sufferer needs must be.
For me upon life's dreary way
What scorn, what anguish, Thou didst bear!
Let me but hide me day by day,
Be least of all, alway,
Thy lot to share.