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LXXVII

Anon.

58

Show me more love, my dearest LORD;

Oh turn away Thy clouded face,

Give me some secret look or word

That may betoken love and grace;

No day or time is black to me

But that wherein I see not Thee.

Show me more love: a clouded face

Strikes deeper than an angry blow;

Love me and kill me by Thy grace,

I shall not much bewail my woe.

But even to be

In heaven unloved of Thee,

Were hell in heaven for to see.

Then hear my cry and help afford:

Show me more love, my dearest LORD!

Show me more love, my dearest LORD,--

I cannot think, nor speak, nor pray;

Thy work stands still, my strength is stored

In Thee alone. Oh come away,

Show me Thy beauties, call them mine,

My heart and tongue will soon be Thine.

Show me more love; or if my heart

Too common be for such a guest,

Let Thy good Spirit, by Its art,

Make entry and put out the rest;

For 'tis Thy nest.

Then he's of heaven possest,

That heaven hath in his breast.

Then hear my cry, and help afford;

Show me more love, my dearest LORD!

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