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CCCLXXVIII

A SOUL'S CRY

Take me away, and in the lowest deep

There let me be,

And there in hope the lone night-watches keep,

Told out for me.

There, motionless and happy in my pain,

Lone, not forlorn,--

There will I sing my sad perpetual strain,

Until the morn.

There will I sing, and soothe my stricken breast,

Which ne'er can cease

To throb, and pine, and languish, till possest

Of its Sole Peace.

There will I sing my absent LORD and Love:--

Take me away,

That sooner I may rise, and go above,

And see Him in the truth of everlasting day.

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