Thomas Campion (Томас Кэмпион)

* * *

View me, Lord, a work of thine!
Shall I then lie downed in night?
Might thy grace in me but shine,
I should seem made all of light.

Cleanse me, Lord, that I may kneel
At thine altar pure and white;
They at once thy mercies feel,
Gaze no more on earth's delight.

Worldly joys like shadows fade
When the heavenly light appears;
But the covenants Thou hast made,
Endless, know not days nor years.

In thy word, Lord, is my trust,
To thy mercies fast I fly;
Though I am but clay and dust,
Yet thy grace can lift me high. 

1. Fire That Must Flame Is with Apt Fuel Fed
2. To Music Bent Is My Retired Mind
3. Shall I Come, Sweet Love to Thee
4. Amaryllis
5. Follow Your Saint

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